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gyuswhore · 5 months ago

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Statistically Speaking...

part of the svt TA collab

kim mingyu x reader

word count: 21k

contains: TA! mingyu, fluff, smut [minors DNI], angst, statistics, ur honour they're stupid for one another, descriptions of stress exhaustion and burnout, academic burden, disagreements, mingyu is smart as hell, shitting on bad professors, smut but its a surprise [gyu gets his soul sucked while he's reciting statistical models I mean what]

words of conviction from @highvern: Kim Mingyu, total asshole , 1-800-HOT N DUMB , THEYRE IN LOVE MINGYU SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU LOSER , sick fucking freak , i know when you wrote this you put your head in your hands , OHHHM YW GOD

synopsis: In all your years of academic endurance, you’ve never failed. A 100% success rate, despite you cutting it close at times. However, the line graph that is your life starts tanking somewhere around the time you began taking this hellsent Statistics in Psychological Research class. With a professor that wouldn’t know his ass from his head, and an overworked, overenthusiastic, and overcaptivating TA, it couldn't possibly get any worse than this. However, statistically speaking,…it could.

[a/n]: this fic is set in the same universe as @highvern's wonu fic endpoint [read here!!!], some insight for wonu's pov is included here as is some of Mingyu's pov in cam's fic if you'd like to see more about what happens in the gaps!!

I want to start by thanking everyone who chose to be part of this collab fic and for being the reason cam and I were able to open up @camandemstudios in the first place. everyone's been so kind and cooperative and I still cant believe we managed to convince such amazing writers to join us on this collab journey 🥹 I love u guys

Thanking my wife camothy @highvern for brainstorming with me since day one and for betaing for me. @seokgyuu and @miabebe for also looking over the doc and reassuring me. I'm for sure forgetting someone and I'm really sorry about that, know that I appreciate you just as much 🤍

on that note, I hope you guys enjoy this fic, im HELLA nervous for some reason so plsplspls remember to reblog and send me feedback on how you liked it, I will love you forever <333

masterlist

Monday

A normal person would’ve cried. Perhaps even sued the entire institution for all it was worth. Burn down the world, if it came to it.

But as you stare at the tiny 37/100 on your screen, you feel…nothing.

You could’ve said you saw it coming, which you did, but something about blaming someone else for an exam you took was beginning to feel a little manipulative.

Clicking off the student portal, you huff loudly, five in the morning too early for you to begin breaking down over a grade that was completely unreflective of what you were taught.

Or maybe it was, because as you count one, two, three hours till your dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, you can only hope you’ll hold back from spitting in your professor’s coffee. But alas, you can only shut your laptop harder than necessary for what it costs and push the grade out of your mind.

You were tired enough to sleep for a couple more hours, and you take it as an opportunity to spite the entire course by giving just as many fucks as your professor did.

Which was little to none.

That was a lie—on your part anyway. Because you continue to show up, and probably will until you can put this course and all of its trauma behind you. Even now as you feel the inclining beat of your pulse sitting in the white lecture hall, you know this is all but you versus the universe.

Dr. Cho might as well have wheeled himself into the room on a skateboard with the way he struts into the room.

He’s wearing a denim jacket with the sleeves cut off and jeans of a matching finish that do not fit him properly. There’s pins in every last colour on this earth, littering the front of his jacket with sayings that toe the silver controversial lining. There was one that said Vote for John F. Kennedy, another plain black one with I Eat Kids, and of course, the blaring Cunt written in cursive, pink sparkly letters.

This man that’s pushing into his 60s stands before his slightly wilted class in his crocs, hands on his hips as he heaves a long breath.

“I have to say, not the turn out I was expecting on that last report.”

He’s talking about the report you coincidentally failed, the same one you were pushed into with little to no direction and a deadline tighter than any you’ve had to bully yourself through.

“All I can say is to read through the feedback I’ve given and try a little harder next time.” His voice is somewhere bordering comical exasperation. Feedback that consisted of sparing ‘?’’s and ‘no’’s with zero further explanation. He could say more, but you’ve learned that he simply chooses to not.

Besides the man that drones in the front of the room, there’s another person in the other corner of the lecture hall. He’s hunched over a giant pile of papers, sifting through each and every one with a pen in his other hand.

The TA doing a mundane task is somehow more interesting than whatever seminars of disappointment your professor was giving. He’s crossing something out on every single leaf of paper that he flicks through, and you vaguely wonder if those were today’s worksheets.

“...and post hoc tests last week, we can start on Bayesian today. Mingyu will be handing out the tutorial papers.”

The poor TA looks like he thought he’d have more time, snapping his head up to look at the professor with an expression of pure incredulousness. He staggers for a moment before he’s flicking past the pages even faster somehow, striking out what seems like the same instruction in the giant pile of papers meant for an entire lecture hall. There’s a rustle as about a hundred laptops are being pulled out and booted up, waiting for the worksheets to land on the desks.

You hear the familiar warble of papers being passed out and you watch as the TA pulls chunks of sheets out of the giant stack in his arms to slam down onto the front tables.

“Pass it down, please… pass it down, please…”

There’s a voice that calls from one of the front seats, “What formula is the sheet talking about?”

Mingyu looks startled as he snaps back to look at the blaring empty whiteboard. In the midst of passing papers, you watch him sprint to the rolling whiteboards, pulling one of the giant flats of white over to the other side, the mechanism slamming into place with a louder than comfortable slam. It reveals another whiteboard underneath with the detestably long formula already written (and the one you’d have to figure out yourself).

The professor remains with his chin in his hands behind his laptop, unphased.

By the time you’ve registered the foreign symbols on the board, one of the tutorial papers has made it into your hands.

Sure enough, there’s a quick line across one of the steps with a thick black marker.

Blinking hard, you attempt to pull yourself into the zone, staring at the white sheet with words that are barely stringing themselves together. Nothing out of the ordinary, especially as you lift your head to find hunched shoulders and furrowed brows all around.

There’s one person that’s zipping back and forth, just like there always is.

You watch as Mingyu hunches over certain laptops and whispers in rapid explanation before moving on to the next, a looming sense of dizziness that trails behind him as he shoots up the stairs to the back rows to help someone else.

There’s a brief consideration to raise your own hand to ask for help, but one look at his disoriented gaze and the amount of hands that shoot up by the second, you guess it wasn’t going to help.

Back you go, hunched over the same wretched paper as everyone else, and praying for some divine revelation.

Tuesday

Divine revelation did not come to you, but the good sense to make use of office hours did.

So here you are, a printed copy of your supposedly horrid assignment and a pack of multicolour pens in your tote, and determination in your stride, you make your way to the department building.

You’ve double, triple, quadruple checked the times to ensure you don’t dip in at the wrong moment, swiping open your phone to re-check the room number yet again.

Standing outside the door, you knock with mustered confidence, waiting for something akin to an affirmative from the other side of the door.

Nothing.

You knock again.

Silence.

You glance around the empty hall before grasping onto the cool brass handle of the door, wrenching it open just a peep. Poking your head in, you find the room…empty.

The chairs and tables that usually buzz with discussing students lay barren as you step into the room. Moving to look at the front of the room, you inhale sharply as you realise the professor’s desk has been occupied this entire time.

Except he’s asleep.

No, that’s not the professor.

Moving closer, you watch the way his back rises and falls ever so slowly, head resting on his arm as his hand hangs limp off the table. Whipping your head around with more attention this time, you attempt to find an explanation written on the walls. But there’s none, even in the papers that litter the table he rests his head on.

You don’t need to see his face to know it’s the TA. But as you stand in the empty room, clutching the straps of your tote, you aren’t quite sure what to do.

Another glance around the table and you realise his laptop remains on, the screen yet to sleep. Before the obvious issue of a blatant invasion of privacy can befall you, you take a step forward to take a peek.

It’s his schedule, a million colours blaring on the screen in a colour coded regard with barely any white spaces. It doesn’t take long to find his time slot for right now, red with importance.

Glancing down, the man remains fast asleep, pen still in hand as it inks a faint line on the page. You look around the room for the nth time, taking constant glances back at his laptop that tells you he’s actively missing something right now. Clearing your throat, you hunch over a tad bit.

“Um, excuse me.” He hardly moves. So you try a little louder, hunching over his sleeping form even further. “Excuse me.”

You could’ve sworn you heard a snore.

Out of instinct, you bring a hand forward to his shoulder, shaking ever so slightly as you call for him again. “Excuse me!”

There’s a sharp inhale and he shoots up quicker than you can back away, ensuring you get an entire back’s worth of force as he bumps into you, hard.

“Wh–ow!” The noise is collective, yelps and thuds as you both back away from each other.

“W–what’re you doing here?” he asks, hair still ruffled and eyes barely open as he stands at the table. There’s a bright yellow sticky note on his right cheek, ink scribbled on in something you can’t decipher.

“Um, it’s office—”

His eyes land on the same screen you were peering into just before and it looks like his life flashes before his eyes, widening at the sight as he slams around the table looking for something.

“I have to go,” he announces, gripping onto an unstrapped watch as he registers the time, his other hand shoving his laptop and a few papers into a dark messenger bag.

“Wait, isn’t it still office hours?” you call out as he whizzes past you.

He’s swinging his bag over his shoulder and half tripping to the door as he calls out, “Wednesdays and Thursdays.”

“But—”

“It’s on the portal.”

“No it’s not.”

“Yes it—” he pauses as he exhales loudly, closing his eyes and bringing a hand to rub across his tired face. “I’ll double check. But it’s Wednesdays and Thursdays from now on. You can wait till I get back if you really want help.”

“How—”

A loud slam! of the door.

“—long…”

You’re left draped in silence yet again, the echoes of the slammed door ringing in your startled ears. It all happened too fast for you to process, blinking rapidly as you registered that you were now alone in the room.

He said he’d be back, but left you with no indication as to when. By the looks of his god awful schedule, it looked like he had something else to attend to right after whatever it was he buggered off to right now.

Fingers clenched into a fist, you consider your options. You could wait, sit on one of the desks and try to get some work done until he gets back.

The universe gives you your answer as the door opens with a loud creak in the empty lecture hall. It’s another professor who looks quite startled to find an overenthusiastic student already present for class.

She stares before craning to look at the room number outside the door, “Am I in the right room?”

“Uh, yes! I was just leaving,” you buffer out, moving to shuffle out immediately.

You’re halfway out the door when you hear another call of an “Excuse me!”

“Are these your papers?” The professor’s full arms are up as she gestures to the still littered table.

The No is ready on your lips. Until it isn’t.

Later on, you’d consider how you left that room with an armful of papers that did not belong to you. How you’d ducked under the table to ensure you’d gotten everything, down to the leather strap watch with the cracked clock face.

But as you stare at the stack of files and sheets that lay on your desk at home, you only know of the decent act that you’d committed.

And nothing of the hourglass you’d just turned over.

Wednesday

In your Sent box are three emails sent on three separate days, all asking the same recurring question, all responding with the same recurring reply.

I wanted to confirm the days and times for office hours. I’m aware it’s on the portal but I’d like to reconfirm.

Regards, YN

Dear YN,

Wednesdays and Thursdays. 4 to 6 PM.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

So there you were on a Wednesday afternoon, 3:59 PM sharp, outside the lecture hall where office hours have always been. With the same tote hung on your shoulders, with the same printed assignment and pack of multicolour pens, and a separated stack of files and folders, you wrench the door open with bated breath.

The blended murmur of the usual hustle and bustle of the appointment reassures you first, the sight of scattered students of familiar faces reassures you second. And most of all, a conscious TA that sits at the professor’s desk, speaking to another student over a laptop screen.

The man does nothing to acknowledge your arrival, continuing above the babble of students that occupy the chairs and the discussion. It isn’t too full, but considerably busy nonetheless despite how early you’ve swooped in.

There’s a brief consideration whether this was in the TA’s job description at all, craning your neck to take a full sweep of the room to find a sparing glimpse of the man who should be here. The professor and his loud fashion choices are nowhere to be found.

The sigh you let out is heavy and full of an emotion you cannot possibly begin to unpack, taking a seat on one of the unoccupied chairs to slump against. Shoulders sagging, you feel every fibre of your being screaming against your better judgement to pull out some work and to be productive while you wait. Reading over your failed assignment for the nth time, the same one that seemed to be some sick form of rage bait.

You pull a couple things out so as to not look awkward sitting and staring into nothing on an empty desk, uncapping your pen and pulling up your sleeves like there was business to be done. Which there was, but none of which you wished to entertain.

People watching, you realise, is a lot easier when most of the room is preoccupied with whatever it is they’re doing, too busy to notice your blank stares.

The faces are familiar, none of which are people you’ve interacted with before but classmates nonetheless. The room is full of shaking legs, spinning pens and hunched backs, not an un-scrunched brow in sight. There’s a particular gaggle of girls somewhere around the front, their tables suggesting a work environment but between the whispers, giggles and glances to the front of the room, you assume there’s one thing in common the both of you weren’t doing.

Speaking of the front of the room, your matched glance finds you face to face with the student at the main table in the middle of pushing himself off his seat. Your reaction is immediate, hand coming over to slam against the flat of your bag to find the lost straps, moving out of your seat as you keep your eyes on the front of the room.

Bad luck must be a lover, because you realise quickly that somebody’s already beat you to it. Before you even noticed the first’s intentions to. The student stands beside the chair ready to keep it warm as the previous occupant leaves.

Slamming back down on your own seat, you realise very quickly that trying to get an audience with this TA was going to be harder than you anticipated. There’s multiple other sounds of frustration around the room, and you doubt the slowly increasing pool of students was going to help anyone’s time management.

Realising you needed to be a little more tactical if you didn’t want to sit here for the next month and half, you find an empty spot near the gaggle of girls you’d noticed before. It was right up front, just enough for you to hear when the conversation would begin to conclude at the main table.

Once again, the TA doesn’t seem to notice any of the hustle and bustle of the room as his mouth continues to move rapidly, eyes on the question as he invests himself in his explanation.

It was unfortunate that the only remaining seat was right next to the louder than necessary group, but you take it as a blessing anyway. It’s then that the one right next to you turns to stage-whisper to you.

“Are you here to see him?”

You don’t expect a conversation, ears straining to eavesdrop on the other conversation in front of you to find your cue. You snap to look at her in surprise. “Pardon?”

“Are you here to see him? Mingyu?”

“Uh—” Wasn’t everybody? “Yeah, I had a couple things I wanted to clear out.”

The revelation makes her shoulders drop as she lets out a loud sigh, “God, I can never get anything this professor says. I've been here nearly every week trying to figure it all out.”

“Yeah he’s a bit…unorthodox.”

“He’s unorthodox too.” She looks over to the main table towards the TA, chin in her hands as she gazes. “A face like that is rare.”

It wasn’t that she was wrong, it didn’t take more than a glance to convince yourself that Mingyu was possibly one of the more attractive people you’d meet in your lifetime. But the appeal lasted for all of five minutes for you, flitting away when you noticed that he dragged along a very…overwrought… suggestion wherever he went.

It was clear he was stressed seemingly all year round, nearly just as relaxed as your professor seemed to be.

But Mingyu was attractive. And you realise how much of a fool you’d sound if you admitted to anything other than such.

“It is. His willpower’s somehow even rarer,” you add. “Don’t know how he does it.”

“God, tell me about it. Forget getting his number, trying to have more than a three sentence exchange with him without some statistical nonsense involved is near impossible.” Her face has fallen, a tight little frown on her face as she irritates herself with some other memory.

Taking a glance down at her notes, you find the printed sheet littered with glitter gel pen ink lining the edges, doodles of stars and hearts and small anime characters next to p values and z scores.

There’s a distinct sound of a chair screeching, and it’s like a large GAME OVER sign is hanging above your head.

You jerk in your seat, like you could jump over the table and land in the emptying seat with some god-given stroke of luck, like the person already standing next to the chair wouldn’t hold a lifelong grudge against the insane girl with an unnatural acclimation to statistics.

Although, nothing was more unnatural than the way this TA seemed to know more than the professor. Or you were just really behind.

Alas, you don’t tumble over the table or kick back your chair, merely making a forceful motion in your seat, palms itching terribly as you watch the girl with her open laptop balanced in her arms move to take a seat.

You were preoccupied, hence you do not notice that the TA has also noticed you.

Suddenly, the girl looks startled as she’s told to wait.

“She’s been waiting nearly a week, I really hope you don’t mind,” you hear him say, voice strained as you turn to look at him. His hands are outstretched to motion towards you a few feet across from him.

For whatever reason, you had no thought that he might’ve remembered you. Something about his half asleep state when he’d spoken to you, perhaps he might’ve thought he dreamt it. Or he’d just forgotten it altogether.

The girl glances at you, and her shoulders sag a little as she nods in formality.

“Thank you.”

It comes out of both of you, snapping to look at each other hardly a moment as you go back to smiling at the retreating student.

“You can come right after her,” he reassures, his own upturned mouth tired and fading.

Never have you felt more awkward trying to come around the elongated student tables.

You pause at first, staring at the table in front of you like it was worth trying to climb over or even crawl under it to get to the desk. Another moment of eye contact as he stares at your unmoving form with a blank look, and the heat pools your skin.

Staggering for a moment, you end up moving past your chair and walking the way round anyway, the screeching of the chairs only nurturing the existing budding humiliation for no apparent reason.

It only gets worse when you sit across from him finally, backside barely touching the plastic before realising you’d forgotten your bag in your seat.

Mid smile in a timid greeting when you make a sound resembling something of an “Oh!” as you spring back up immediately. It’s easier to reach for your bag over the table you were sitting on, reaching across to grab it off your vacated seat.

The girl you were sitting next to just before makes a motion like she’s trying to help and you have to remind yourself to smile at her as you retreat.

Mingyu has the very beginnings of an amused expression on his face once you’ve finally made yourself comfortable across from him, clearing your throat just for something to do.

“Right. How can I help you?”

Pulling out your printed assignment, you bring out the sheets of stapled paper to the centre of the table, writing facing him.

One look at the sparse format of the cover page, he blows a full mouth of air at the sight of recognition. Without you having to say a thing, he flicks to the very last page, finding the rubric printed on a separate page.

“It’s a 37,” you inform him like he couldn’t see the bold 37/100 in the bottom Total cell.

“Do you think you deserved a better grade?” he asks. It would have sounded direct, an accusation even. But he asks with an intonation of genuinity, like he actually wanted to know.

It stumps you regardless.

“Well…I know I can do better, at least,” you decide to answer.

“You’re here, which means you’re at least willing to try. That’s a start,” he murmurs. His eyes are laser focused on the sheet beneath him, holding it open as his eyes move faster across the page than you can keep up with. Somehow talking to you while taking in the words on the paper.

“I remember marking this,” he says, looking up to address you. “Your concepts are nearly there, but your structure and presentation was off.”

“You marked them?”

He raises his brow, “I hope that wasn’t an accusation. I need to stick to the rubric.”

“I thought the professor marked the lab reports.”

“He’s…supposed to.” There’s a forced reservedness in his voice. “I mark them and he puts in his comments if he has any. But I’m not sure you’d fare any better than this if it was him behind that pen either.”

Every question that floated in memorisation, from the form and structure, to the nitty gritties of the data presentation, all evaporate as you realise you’re at a loss for words.

Even more embarrassingly, you feel tears prick the back of your eyes. You don’t have an explanation, but it’s somehow easier to feel helpless in front of the man that’s meant to help you. “I don’t know what to do anymore.”

“That’s alright,” he says as reassurance, though it sounds awfully rehearsed. Like he has to say it everyday. “We’ll work through it.”

He lets out a big sigh, adjusting in his chair and running a hand through his hair. The motion has you noticing the dishevelled nature of the mop on his head, un-uniformed and sticking out at certain places, yet still somehow cohesive with his look. His shoulders are straight and taut, fingers working as they fiddle and flick the pen in his hand.

Despite it all, his shirt is ruffled and creased, unbuttoned at the first couple steps. The buttons are misaligned, one side of his collar higher on his neck than the other. It takes an effort to not reach over and fix it for him.

“Lab reports can be quite tricky if you aren’t sure what you’re doing. Did you refer to the tutorial?”

You mean the one that did nothing to help? “Yes.”

“You got those bits right, format and whatnot. But—”

“It was a lump of writing about subheadings and word counts,” you say plainly.

Mingyu lips are in a tight line. “Well, yes, but it helps—”

“I know the results are supposed to go in the results section. I don’t need a PDF to tell me that,” you cut him off. Your voice is reserved, and you hope it comes off as a point across and not a complaint. Although it was a complaint. “I want to know why the entire section was ruled off as incorrect when we were never properly taught how to write it in the first place.”

“Dr. Cho—”

“Is no help.”

“I understand—”

“He can’t even mark his own papers. I’m quite sure that’s not in your job description. It’s supposed to be him here. Not you.”

It’s silent. There was nothing in your voice that suggested you wished to pick a fight, on the contrary, quite calm and matter of fact. Mingyu’s fingernails are going white as his grip on his pen and paper grow stronger.

“And yet, we continue to show up. Because we do what we must.” He raises his head in control, a small smile on his face, eyebrows unnaturally raised. “And, better that I’m here rather than no one at all. I can help you too.”

Help, he did.

Mingyu had made it quite clear his time with you was limited, but by the end of the near 25 minute session, nearly every inch of your printed assignment was covered in a rainbow of notes and corrections, additional papers and post-it notes pasted on the back as you remain careful to not lose them as you slip the stack in your bag.

You only remember when you spot the segregated file of papers in your bag.

“I almost forgot,” you say, slipping the files and tidbits out and in front of him.

“Where did you find this?” he asks sharply, eyes widening as sees the familiar blue.

“You left them at the desk of the lecture hall last week,” you say, before quickly adding, “There was a class right after you left. I took them off the professor’s hands before they got lost. Thought it might be important.”

“I’ve been looking all over for these,” he says as he goes through the pages and files. Random sticky tabs and highlighted regions across the pages. The leather strap watch with the broken clock face remains on top, and he picks it up. He looks up to you with wide, sparkling eyes and a smile that feels genuine. “Thank you.”

You flush for some reason, “O–of course, couldn’t just leave them there.”

Pausing, you wonder if you should make the next comment, the words tumbling out before you can make a decision. “Maybe don’t run out of rooms still half asleep.”

By the grace of God, he laughs, “No, you’re right. I should be careful.”

It isn’t till you’re pushing yourself out of your chair that he continues. “You can come in at 3:30 tomorrow.”

“Pardon?”

He’s stood up as well. “I have a free thirty minutes before office hours formally start. I can help you out a little more without the crowd.”

Feet planted on the ground, there’s not much you can do but stare. “Um, sure. I can come in a little early.”

He nods casually, “Thanks again for the papers. And the watch.”

You smile, “No problem.”

Thursday

True to your punctual nature, you make yourself known at exactly 3:29 PM.

Mingyu is at the desk, conscious and on the phone, eyes closed as he rests his face on his fist.

“I don’t know if I can make time for that—no, I understand, sir,”

Another pause as the noise from his speakers fill his ears, his rubbing over his face a little harsher than you doubt he’s entirely comfortable with.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

His phone hits the table with a heartbreaking thud, both hands covering his face as he presses the heels of his hands to his eyes.

“Light on your feet or something? I can never tell when you come in,” he startles when he notices you.

Sheepish smile on your face, you move to sit down. “Sorry.”

You know it’s invasive, and you also know you might be asking him to break some unknown university code of conduct, but curiosity takes charge as you ask a casual question. “Important call?”

“Uh, yeah, um, just work stuff,” he states, shaking his head swiftly like he’s trying to shake the thought out of his mind.

There’s a pause while you're slipping your papers and laptop out of your bag, during which he seems to have decided to divulge a little more.

“It was Dr. Cho. More stuff for me to do,” he says. “As always.”

“Does he do anything other than show up to class?” you ask through a snort.

“Of course he does. He cusses out every article he doesn’t agree with, is anything but objective and…the occasional relay of blatant misinformation.”

For the record, you’d never really heard Mingyu speak at all for the months he’d been TA-ing for the semester. It was small whispers of choice words in a vague voice, the distant murmur as he exchanged with the professor too far for you to hear.

The voice of the seemingly quiet and diligent TA was never known to you, not until yesterday as he explained statistical models and the flaws of your data presentation.

Passionately too. Incredulous for a discipline so dry and unapproachable.

That being said, something about the grit in his voice as he positively sneered through his teeth, badmouthing his professor—it was something you couldn’t quite believe he was capable of.

“I’m sorry you have to put up with him.”

Once again, by whatever stone of tolerance the universe bestowed in his heart, you watch him sigh and smile, “Anything for that recommendation. And the pay too, I suppose. Besides, he’s done a lot for the area, can’t discredit him entirely.”

With your eyebrows raised, he seems to catch your expression. He pants out a laugh, and your stomach lurches as you watch it reach his eyes, teeth on display, a lurch in his chest; a true laugh.

Raising his hands in surrender, he responds, “I’m stuck.”

There’s nothing you can do to stop the smile that reaches your own face, turning your laptop screen towards him with the JASP software display. “I am too. Help.”

Help, he does.

Monday

Mingyu ended up giving you an entire hour on that Thursday.

The thirty minutes before office hours began soared by like they were nothing, and you were ready to take your leave the minute students began to scatter in as the clock hit a swift four. Except he kept going, another 30 minutes in deep concentration as he retaught you nearly everything from scratch.

Perhaps his proven determination to ensure you don’t tragically fail is what prompted you to do this, standing at the till of your regular coffee shop as you ask, “Make that two, please.”

It might also be important to mention the 7:30 AM on the dial on a bright Monday morning as you walked into your slightly less dreaded Statistics in Psychological Research class, knowing there would only be one other person insane enough to get to the lecture hall this early.

Something isn’t right.

Mingyu is in a position all too familiar to you and everyone else who shares this class, hunched over something or the other in deep focus. The sun pours in through the lifted blinds, the lights of the class turned off as natural light does more than enough of the job.

It also shows you a blaring hot pink post-it note on his face, all too familiar to a previous interaction you’ve had with him.

He notices you before you need to announce yourself, brows separating as he recognises you in the doorway. “‘Morning!”

“...Morning.”

“You’re early,” he comments, straightening his back with a hand behind him for support as you approach.

“Figured we both needed this,” you hand him a tray with his cup of coffee, eyes still trained on his lower cheek with the paper stuck to it. “It’s a latte with no sugar, but I added a couple packets on the side anyway. Just in case.”

“O–oh, thank you. And you’re right I did need this.”

Now that you’re closer, the scrawled writing on the post-it note is clearer.

To Do:

Call mom

Shoot myself

“You, um—” It’s alarmingly difficult for you to say it, despite the words being so simple. Hey! You got a lil’ something on your face.

But all you do is dumbly point to your own cheek, eyes trained on the loud piece of paper that tells more than he might like the world to know.

There’s a loud slap of his hand on his own cheek as he crumples the paper in his hands, bringing it forward to see. “For fuck’s sake.”

“It’s okay! I wanna…shoot myself too sometimes.”

What the fuck?

“I mean!” you correct louder than you anticipated, before covering with a laugh. “It’s okay, it happens. Good thing I caught it before someone else did.”

It’s all the more petrifying when your voice echoes across the blatantly empty lecture hall, reverberating like it was a punishment for you and your horrid lack of volume control. Meeting his eyes feels like a sin right now, so you keep them downcast and pray he doesn’t try to sabotage your education.

“Good thing it was just you. Yeah.”

Just you.

“Anyways, I think I’m done with prepping for class. Do you wanna squeeze in twenty minutes of ANOVA?”

“Have you seen the time?”

“Not a morning person?”

“Nope!”

“And yet it’s 7:40 on a Monday morning and you’re absurdly early.” His brows are raised as he pulls around the professor's chair to bring it to you.

“Do you want the coffee or not?” you ask, watching as he drags another chair for himself.

The both of you sit away from the professors table, coffees in hand as you watch Mingyu run a hand through his hair.

He gives you a crooked grin,“I apologise.”

“To be fair,” he continues. “I’m not much of a morning person either.”

You narrow your eyes the slightest bit as Mingyu takes a sip of his unsweetened coffee, “I’m starting to think no money’s worth this job.”

Mingyu snorts, coffee suspended in his full cheeks. He swallows with much difficulty before answering, “You’re right. Not sure why I’m still here either. I could get an offer from another professor.”

“And that isn’t happening because…?”

Elbows on his knees, Mingyu swirls his capless coffee cup, the beige liquid moving in a growing tornado. “I like Dr. Cho.”

“You—”

“I know,” he laughs loud, a deep, echoing sound that shakes in your ears. “I know. I sound like a lunatic.”

“I don’t know about lunacy, but insanity can have its reasons.”

“Another would argue that insanity was the very absence of reason.”

“Don’t get smart with me.”

“Excuse me for doing my job.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, and you ask again, “No, but really. I can’t imagine this man having too many redeeming qualities as an educator.”

Mingyu lifts his chin as he presses his lips together. “When I was in my first year, there was this other class I had where we had to write a lab report for the first time.”

“PSYCH101?”

“That’s the one. I’d never written one before, but I liked statistics enough to do a little more digging than what the assignment called for. I ended up finding one of Dr. Cho’s studies, read the entire thing, word for word. I was up all night reading nearly everything he’d published, some of ‘em before any of us were even born.”

“Oh. So you’re a fan.”

“Everyone tells you to never meet your idols,” he snickers. “He’s done amazing things, but I guess he pays for it with his flawed personality.”

“I’m sorry it had to be you,” you half joke.

Mingyu looks at you sheepishly, “That might also be my own fault.”

“Don’t tell me you offered.”

“I might as well have. All my assignments referenced his work the most. I was always talking to him about upcoming research after class, and it was like he was a different person. Forget differing opinions, some of what he was saying was just…plain incorrect. He welcomed the argument though, and I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true. He was always emailing me extra resources which…I’m pretty sure he isn’t supposed to do. Only reason I did so well in his class was because I taught myself.”

He sighs a loud sigh, straightening his back, “I guess he liked me more than I thought, because next thing I know I’m getting a call over the summer telling me I have a job.”

“Did he…have a TA when you were in his class?”

“Four.”

“Four?!”

“Two at a time. All of ‘em quit at some point. Said they didn’t want the recommendation or the pay.”

“Would he…not give you a recommendation anyway? You said he liked you.”

Mingyu shakes his head solemnly, “He’s a tough cookie, everyone in the field knows that. If you’ve impressed him, you’ve impressed everyone.”

You take a moment to really absorb everything you’ve just learned. “That’s a sucky position you’re in.”

“Tell me about it. But it’s okay. Three—three and a half more months to go? This isn’t even the worst of it, I’m just dreading study week when I’m gonna have to handle all the crying.”

You wince as he mentions something even remotely close to exam season, still barely at a stage where you can accept you’d be alright with this class.

“I know you’re not nearly as qualified or experienced as him, but I think you could take over his class.”

“Ever heard of barriers to entry? I’d be ruined if I wanted a career in this.”

You roll your eyes playfully, “All I’m saying is I’ve learned more from you in barely a couple hours combined than the last two months I’ve spent cursing this very lecture hall.”

If you weren’t lying to yourself, you could’ve sworn you saw a blush creep up his face, and paired with his shy laugh and hand at the back of his neck, you can’t help but bite back your own smile.

“If I can help you then it’s worth losing myself.”

Your heart is in your fucking throat.

“I’m glad when students tell me that,” he continues, utterly oblivious to the landslide happening in your digestive tract. “Makes me feel like I’m doing something right.”

“You’re—” you swallow thickly because you sound like a toad. “You’re doing more than just something right. You’re saving us therapy and an extra semester.”

He laughs at that, and you wish he’d let you breathe.

“Feels like I’m doing something wrong sometimes,” he huffs. “My friend’s a TA too and he’s got himself a girlfriend on top of everything else he’s got going on.”

He goes on, “Do you know how many times I need to ask people to quit twirling their hair? To look at the page and not my face? Asking for my number, I have an email for a reason, for fuck’s sake—”

Mingyu is cut off because you’re laughing, hand to mouth as your shoulders shake through your sniggering. “W–what?”

“I’m sorry,” you hiccup. “It’s just…It sounds like you don’t know what you look like.”

“What’s wrong with how I look?” he frowns.

“Nothing!” you exclaim. “But that’s the problem isn’t it.”

Mingyu doesn’t seem to buy it, even through your coaxing as you attempt to explain to him that he is, in fact, desirable.

“Can’t possibly be enough to distract people,” he huffs in earnest, still hung up on the students he can’t get through to.

“Majority of the class would beg to differ.”

There’s a pause as he registers what you imply.

After a few moments, he drops his head, opening his mouth, “Would… you also—”

There’s a loud creak of the door as you hear the immediate noises of shuffling feet and chattering mouths, as low and tired as they sounded. Turning back to look at Mingyu, he’s already jumped out of his seat, wrist to face as he checks the time on the same leather strap watch you returned.

“That’s our cue,” you breathe, pushing your chair back behind the professor’s desk as you manoeuvre around Mingyu who’s suddenly frantic.

Of course you realise there’s people other than just the two of you in the room, heightened in seats that are designed to ensure they can absorb every detail that goes on right where you stand in the front of the room.

But you feel the soft of Mingyu’s shirt over his wrist as you give him a gentle squeeze despite it all, barely enough pressure. Half your index finger brushes the skin of his hand, just enough to register how cold your fingertips are and how warm his body is.

“Relax,” you whisper. “You’ll be better off without all the panic.”

You don’t see his face as you brush past him and up to your seat, looking up to see him disappear somewhere in the corner hunched over another stack of papers. The next time you see Mingyu’s face is when the professor arrives and has begun his regularly scheduled tomfoolery, and realise all the age that can accumulate in the span of five minutes.

Thursday

Midterm season is nothing you’ve ever really had to worry about.

Something about the halfway point did make it obvious that the clock was ticking, but danger was far enough away to prevent the ultimate breakdowns reserved for the peak seasons.

Except this class isn’t ordinary, and it’s all you’re able to worry about all semester. And as Dr. Cho in his Thrasher vest announces the date for the in class midterm, the glass once half empty, suddenly looks very half full.

“I’m not ready.”

“You’re more ready than anyone else in class.”

“How do you know that?”

Mingyu stares at you blankly, “If I don’t know that, then who else does?”

You have tears in your eyes, which is embarrassing enough since this is the second time you’ve teared up in front of him, but also because you’re in a library following Mingyu around like a lost duck because he insists on putting the books he borrowed back onto the shelves himself after registering the return.

“But I don’t feel like I’m ready,” you whine, turning the corner as he searches for the last spot to place his final book.

“You’ll realise just how ready you are when all those hieroglyphs on the page start to make sense to you,” he grunts the last bit out as he reaches on his tippy toes to shove the book back up.

Dusting his hands off, he adjusts his shirt before turning to you, “You only feel that way because I’ve been giving you harder problems to work on. You’re past the level you need to be at right now. Trust me, you’re more than prepared.”

“But—”

“Listen,” he waves to the librarian as you both leave the library, your eyes still glistening as you fiddle with your sleeves. “It’s only the midterm—”

“Only the—”

“If this goes wrong, I’m just gonna have to work you harder for the real thing. Even though I know it won’t go wrong because I said so.”

You fall into silence as he walks you towards the coffee shop across the courtyard.

“I’m assuming…” you start.

“Hm?” he looks over to you.

“I’m assuming you can’t hint at what’s on the paper.”

Mingyu barks out a laugh of disbelief, “You assume correct. I’m not going through hell with this job just to lose it because of a paper leak.”

“But it’s just the midterm,” you mumble, not even close to remotely audible.

“What did you say?” Mingyu smirks.

“Nothing,” you huff.

“You know, I’m a little offended you don’t trust me.”

“Who said I didn’t.”

“Well then, stop being such a worrywart.”

There must be something written on your face, because as you pass Mingyu standing at the door he keeps open for you, entering into the coffee shop with fallen shoulders, he seems to change his mind.

He brings you a coffee, sits you down, and gives you something else you need. “I made the paper. Every question. And I taught you. Every concept. So I definitely know you’re gonna be fine.”

In that moment, with the large glass walls of the warm coffee shop, the afternoon sun comfortably resting on every last object of the room, you don’t see it illuminate anything other than the man before you.

Perhaps you're being dramatic at the revelation, but you don’t take anything into account as you note Mingyu’s eyes and how they sparkle like they were gifted from the centre of a flaming volcano, brown and polished more than any jewel or stone you’d ever seen. Reaching out to touch him, you know you’d feel nothing but smooth stone, the indentations only possible by a being beyond what you could comprehend.

He’d given you more than just reassurance, and at times, his timing makes it feel like he was sent from the heavens itself, just for you.

You sniffle.

His hands brush over yours as he hands you a napkin, and even more so, cover your own as he takes your freezing fingertips into his own palm, the contact burning you like hot coal.

You know he’s real. And you don’t know why quite just yet, but that reassurance is enough to give you calm.

Monday

You were alright, but it seems that Mingyu seemed to disintegrate right after he was done reassuring you to the moon and Saturn and Jupiter and back.

It’s midterm day, and as always on every Monday morning, you enter the empty lecture hall with two warm coffees in your hand, ready for whatever shitshow you’d have to perform for today.

It seems Mingyu must defect from at least one regular string of behaviour to remain as Mingyu, who on this occasion, stands before you in a baby blue polo sweater.

Except you only know that because you can see the unique collar, but it might also be important that his back is turned towards you.

“Morning, champ,” he gruffs, nothing encouraging about his voice in the slightest.

Your breath hitches when you finally see his face, eyes sunken in and face pale. His lips are chapped and peeling, eyes half closed.

“Why’re you looking at me like that, why has everyone been looking at me like that?” he huffs in one long, rapid question.

“Um, I mean,” you stare at his shirt that’s backwards. And inside out. “I can’t tell if that’s a choice or a mistake.”

Looking down at his front, he looks back up, “What?”

“Your collar is…not at your collar, Mingyu. And your shirt’s inside out.”

Hand at his nape, he reaches his fingers down and finds the unmistakable starched planes of his collar, eyes closing at the realisation. He’s immediately pulling his arms out of the shirt with his eyes still closed like it’d all disappear if he keeps them like that.

“Wait!” you exclaim before he strips entirely, scrambling to put your coffees down to push him out of the room towards the restrooms. “Do you wanna strip for the CCTVs?”

You only hear him sigh as he moves out and into the hall, doors closed behind him.

You’ve nearly forgotten about the midterm at this point, your concern now growing in a completely different direction. By the time Mingyu returns, he’s blabbing about wondering why everyone he ran into since he left home was giving him the strangest looks, and then something about you always swooping in to save him before the real bout of disaster strikes.

It’s hard for you to listen to him when you’re more worried about him passing out, his face doing him no favours to reassure you that he wasn’t a breathing corpse.

“Mingyu…did you sleep at all?”

“Hm?” His eyes are glazed over and unfocused.

“Sleep? Rest?”

“Oh,” he frowns. “Not really. I had emails coming in all night.”

“And you were replying?”

“It's the midterm today,” he responds flatly, like it should’ve been enough explanation.

You almost don’t believe him. “Doesn’t mean you stay up to answer something that should’ve been cleared out beforehand!”

“Couldn’t just leave them to fend for themselves,” he dramatises.

“Yes, you could!” Your voice comes out louder than you expected, eyes wide as you realise what he’s doing to himself. “You barely look human and it’s only the midterm.”

“What’re you trying to say?”

“I don’t know if this job is really worth as much as you think it is.”

Mingyu’s jaw is clenched, fists tight as he releases them to grip paper weight on the desk, knuckles white. “I can’t get anywhere if I don’t—”

“Mingyu, please. This isn’t good for you.”

He says your name. Declarative, almost like a warning. “If you think this job isn’t worth it then you just don’t know.”

“Mingyu—”

“No, you don’t, because I’ve seen how good of a job I’ve been doing.”

“You have, you’ve been amazing but—”

Mingyu’s own voice is raised, a hard impenetrable floor to the words he spills. “Then what’s the problem?”

“Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You look like a corpse!”

And then he’s getting out of his chair with so much force it almost knocks it backwards, “Why on earth do you care so much? So what if I look like a corpse, if I‘m doing my job?”

It might’ve been better if he knocked the chair right into you, your breath dissipating in your chest like it never existed. His face is morphed in an expression of exasperation your anxieties fear the most, every line on his face committed to irritation and anger.

Why on earth do you care so much?

Right. Why do you?

“Are you asking me that?”

“What?”

“Are you asking me why I care?”

Mingyu only sighs, shoulders dropping and eyes closed. Like so many times before, you watch run a hand through his hair, except this time he yanks on the strands harder than ever before.

His eyes are bloodshot.

“I have to get the exam pack.”

Marching out the door in front of your own eyes, you’re left with a feeling that’s right in the back of your throat, curling and whirling into something you wish you could hack and gag out. Gripping the corner of the professor’s desk, you feel the peeling wood cut into your skin.

There’s a draft, the delayed slam of the door has only hit its wind now, a delayed reaction. It’s like it registers in your mind as you feel strands of your hair shift, the clarity that comes with it.

Delusive. Chimeric. Cruel.

Everything you’d subjected upon yourself. A whimsical fantasy between pages of logic and numbers, a story that simply didn’t fit where the laws wouldn’t allow it.

The null hypothesis of your most elaborate nightmares.

Monday

Your favourite commonplace box, where your mother once placed all her most prized jewels, had a finicky latch.

It wasn’t broken, simply worn in from years of opening and closing. It took a few tries to get it shut. Simply pressing down with pressure didn’t work; you had to open it again, press down on the individual elements of the latch and then try again.

You were never satisfied until you heard the distinct click of the latch fixing itself, the box closed and ready for you to hook your lock through.

Earlier on in your undergraduate career, you remember a professor talking about the effects of external factors on the mind, how they can sometimes cause it to ‘shut down’ when overwhelmed or stressed.

It’s happened to you on many a occasion; like when you stayed up too late on a school night to watch a documentary about the Stanford prison experiment, or when you’d neglect food or water on busier days, or when you’d stop paying attention in class because you were too preoccupied thinking about Taco Tuesday.

Regardless, you’d found a way to recognise when your brain would fall into some strange kahoots with daydreams, or whatever was bothering you, and learned ways to give yourself a reset.

Pressuring and forcing the attention wouldn’t work, just like how the latch wouldn’t fit when you’d do the same with your beloved old box. So you’d take a walk, drink something cold, spray yourself with a garden hose, or even take a nap altogether. Opening yourself up, so the latch can finally click.

On the morning of your midterm, when you’d ensured your brain was in optimal condition for the exam you knew would be one of the worse ones you’ll have to take, you were sure the only external force that could ruin your vibe was from God himself.

Having been so preoccupied with your mind and its functions, you’d seemed to have forgotten where your heart had wandered off to.

Somebody else might consider it a minor disagreement; an anxious squabble if you will. But your breakfast in your throat was enough reason to deem what happened that morning much more than that. At least for you.

“Pass it on, please…pass it on, please.”

The sound of his voice is tectonic. Rattling in your head like a superior force had slammed into your skull like a padded hammer to a gong.

You hated it. You hated everything. You hated yourself. And as the midterm paper reaches you with your pen in your clawed fingers, the first three questions already making perfect sense, you realise you hated Kim Mingyu the most.

That was a lie. You were lying to yourself, yet again.

Because it was quite the opposite. You couldn’t hate him.

As you drift past every question of conditional experiments and screenshots of data and tables on a software, you hardly remember what you circle and what you don’t. Hardly remember what words you picked for the short answers and labels. You hardly remember taking the steps down from your seat to the front of the room, where the professor sat scrolling through his Skateboarders [!MEN ONLY!] facebook group, placing your paper down and leaving the classroom.

Throughout your years of living, you’d learned what you needed to get your brain out of its clouded muffle, to refocus when you needed it.

Everything. You tried everything.

But on that day, when it mattered most, your latch never clicked.

It’s Wednesday.

You order lunch from the Italian place a few streets down. Ravioli; it’s safe and you know you’ll like it.

Savouring it is easy in front of another true crime show. You pull a lone soft drink from your fridge, one that your friend left weeks ago. It tastes just as bad as the last time you tasted it from someone else’s cup, but you drink it anyway, the empty can now in your trash.

It’s 3:30 PM, and you sit at your desk. It’s strange. It feels like you’re missing something, which in ways, you are. But as you pull your laptop from your nightstand instead of out of your bag, you slow your movements.

The papers are the same. But you read them anyway.

Parameter estimation: Make inferences on characteristics of the population, including distributions of the variables and the effect of one variable over another.

It’s accursed the way the universe won’t let you live.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, estimation cannot be perfect.

Estimation cannot be perfect.

[_]

It’s Thursday

Class. Eat. Drink. Work.

Hypothesis testing: Determine whether null hypothesis is rejected or not after data observation.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue, no null hypothesis in bayesian approach!!

[_]

It’s Friday

Eat. Drink. Work.

Latent means to have meaning but is yet to be manifested. The greek letters are placeholder values for values yet unknown.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue; values that you will find out

[_]

It’s Saturday

Eat. Drink. Work.

P(A|B) = [P(B|A)P(A)

——————

P(B)

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

it gets less complicated

promise :/

[_]

It’s Sunday.

Eat. Drink. Work.

The page is blurry. Your eyes hurt.

There’s a scribble in the corner in a dark blue;

you’ve got this!!! < 3

You give up.

It’s Monday.

8:14 AM.

You barely glance at the front of the room; swift turn to the left and right up the steps. Dr. Cho’s outfit almost goes unnoticed by you, tamer than most. Bright Barbie pink with large polka dots, untucked into too tight white jeans. His crocs are sparkly, at least that’s what the twinkle from up here looks like.

He’s insulting another author, the man’s ProQuest journal article open for the world to see like a mediaeval scandal.

There’s another person next to the whiteboards, back to the wall, hands clasped in front of him. His hair is messy, shooting lasers into the carpet as he rocks the slightest bit, listening to the professor rip this author to shreds.

An hour later, you’re staring into the JASP software like it was written in a different language.

Glancing next to you, the boy in the spongebob hoodie is playing sharkboy and lavagirl by himself. On your other side, the girl has the same thing as you open on her laptop, her pen occupied with drawing about a hundred tiny gojos on a bright pink sticky note.

Bright pink sticky note.

You snap your gaze back to your screen quickly after that.

9:58 AM. You start packing up, shoving everything into your bag.

Dr. Cho doesn’t even notice you slip out of the room, hardly a minute to the end of the lecture.

In the hallway, you take your first real breath in two hours.

It’s Tuesday.

You’ve come down with something, head heavy as you feel yourself burn up. Skipping class is easy when you sleep through your alarm and every phone call from a friend asking where you are.

They drop by, armed with medicine and soup. You almost feel better.

It’s silent after they leave, and you realise in that moment how much you hate it.

Opening your laptop for the first time in over 24 hours, you turn on a random podcast to play in the background, needing something to fill the air before you lose it entirely.

The screen lands right where you left on the incredulous data presentation, unsolved tutorial paper crumpled between the screen and keyboard like a wilted leaf.

Hot, scalding tears sting your eyeballs when you realise there was nowhere to turn to.

It’s Wednesday.

After a long day of doing nothing, still sick from whatever plagued your body, you go to bed earlier than usual.

It’s Thursday.

Walking out of class, your mind is empty. You’re still sniffling, still achey, but better than you were. The shawl wrapped around you is warm, and your hood covers the cold tips of your ears.

This other class makes you feel better about yourself, especially when the content is digestible and so is the professor. The TA feels like a mere accessory in the room, something you’ve learned to appreciate.

With your gaze lowered, you only see midriffs as you walk out the classroom into the busy hallway.

It happens in an instant, the flash of a clenched hand as the owner walks by in quick stride. An unmistakable leather strap watch with a broken clock face on the wrist.

You freeze like you’ve been caught.

The hard bump of someone coming out the room behind you is welcomed, the annoyed “Hey!” knocking you back to earth before you could even exit the dimension.

You’re off centre. But it’s fine.

It’s Monday.

“Midterm results are out Tuesday morning. If you have any questions I’ll be sitting at office hours on Wednesday and Thursday, four to six in the evening. Or you could send me an email, either’s fine.”

Dr. Cho isn’t here. Something you only found out when the pitt sank in your stomach as Mingyu cleared his throat at the full hour.

You want to leave, not caring about how strange it’d look if you did. Not caring about how he would definitely notice if you did. You want him to shut up, to stop talking, for anything to halt the way his voice infiltrates your entire being, talking about things you don’t understand but more familiar than anything else.

Mingyu’s voice is hoarse, and you loathe the way you can tell the difference.

It’s Tuesday.

Midterm Results for Statistics in Psychological Research.

— 92/100

It’s Wednesday.

4:10 PM. It’s almost too much for you. Almost.

The screech of the door is loud, the slam of the handle’s rebound even more so. The room doesn’t so much as glance at you at the door, the half full seats preoccupied with more important things.

The front desk perks up immediately, eyes shooting towards the door for the nth time that day, like he was expecting someone that never seemed to show up.

It’s ironic, you think, how Mingyu never seemed to notice you walk into the room for the many months you’ve walked in just for him. And now, as you walk in fists clenched and jaw set, eyes wild and burning, he’s breaking away from a student to look at the door before you even come into view.

“Did you feel bad?” you spit.

“What?” he whispers. He seems to come around, glancing back before continuing, “Can we talk? Please.”

“Answer the question, Mingyu,” you snap. You don’t care there’s a confused student sitting right across from the both of you, his slot interrupted by your barge. “Did you feel so bad you had to give me something I didn’t earn?”

He’s stood up now, half confused. “Is this about the midterm—”

“I did not get a ninety two, I know I didn’t,” you grit. “Whatever happened before that stupid paper made sure I wouldn’t.”

Mingyu says your name and the sound makes you want to vomit. “What makes you think I’d do something like that?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I fucked up because of you?” you announce, louder than before.

The world disappeared, your tunnel vision pointed at Mingyu’s face that wears an expression you cannot even begin to read. The unbecoming tears in your eyes are of a type of unadulterated rage you’ve felt only a few times before. Your heart is going about a million miles a breath, everything else only triggering an added bout of infuriated tremble in the forefront of your emotions. Nothing makes sense.

Mingyu pushes back his chair in silence, stalking over to a large cupboard in the corner of the room. He shuffles around for a minute before returning.

There’s a packet being thrust into your fists when he reaches you. He does not meet your eyes.

A bright red 92/100 marks the front page.

“Here. It was all you, if you can’t believe me.”

It’s a careful mark, unmistakable lines and curves of the nine and the two.

Reality is slow to sink in, but for some reason it’s only making you angrier. The paper curls under the pressure of your fingertips. You don’t open the packet. You refuse to flick through the pages.

Because you know you’ve lost.

It’s Thursday. And it’s full of regret.

There’s a sickness in you, from that dreaded day, something beyond what affects your body temperature and your energy. It’s in your mind, flooding the nerves that swim through every crevice and cave of your brain, a physical venom that does the opposite of kill but also the opposite of letting you live.

There’s a feeling in you, that even if you were to open your mouth, unhinge your jaw, try to scream as loud as your throat would allow, there would be no sound. Something like a horrible dream, that you need to screw your eyes tight shut to fall out of. Except you aren’t waking up from this one.

In a coffee shop, where Mingyu held your hand in a reassurance you now bleed for, you were sure he was real. Real like some deiform image; too good to be true.

In your bed, dry tears on your face, midterm packet sifted through that showed you absolutely everything that you did right, thanks to him. He feels too real. Real like a cloud of obsidian that follows you everywhere, like the sad that’s been sleeping with you every night.

If there was a way to hate someone more than a human limit, you’ve crossed it with the resentment you’ve now fostered for yourself.

Barging into office hours like that, accusing him on a basis of nothing but your own dangerously stewed thoughts. If there was a hope of salvaged parts, you took a hammer to it in disregard; tearing it to ribbons that lay at your feet.

It’s Friday.

At least it was. It bled into Saturday before you realised the 3:23 AM on the dial.

Two weeks of no help and you already feel lightyears behind. The hour is getting to you, and you feel the frustration pool into tears, that turn into full fledged sobs. You’re crying over Bayesian inference and it’s somehow more pressing than any other emotion you’ve ever felt.

Impossible numbers on your data sheets taunt you, not a single reference to if it was a button you clicked wrong or if you were playing a fool’s game altogether.

Ding! You pick up your phone, the weight of it is enough gravity to pull you back to earth.

[Mingyu]: switch to bF10

[Mingyu]: you’ve been pulling numbers from bF01

It’s immediate the way your eyes dart towards your lit screen, clicking off tables to get to the drop down menu you need. And there on the left, two tiny buttons, one clicked on bF01.

With shaking fingers, you move your cursor to hover over the tiny bF10, anticipating. You click. It takes a moment for the numbers to change, but they do. The nominal values turn into something you can actually work with.

Something akin to a tut leaves you, hidden in the breath of another sob. It’s stupid, unreasonable, absurd. Your fingers hover over your phone, shaking as tears drop onto the screen, faster than before.

Do you not miss me?

Do you not want me around?

Talk to me

I miss you

Please talk to me

“I couldn’t—can’t—stand listening to someone spew nonsense when I know it’s not true.”

Mingyu is a product of his personality. You can only imagine he’s helped because he saw you struggling in class, heard from someone else, or perhaps, he just knew the very thing you’d make blunders out of.

The reasons come to you, that Mingyu is a product of his personality. Then why does it hurt? Why does it feel like the knife’s twisted a full 360, that despite the way you accused him of the thing that would strip him of everything he’s bruised himself for, he helps you. The very thing that caused this rift in the first place.

There’s a reason for that, and it is again, that Mingyu is a product of his personality.

It’s Saturday.

Perhaps you relied on your olfactory senses to remain calm, because you always knew you could count on a coffee shop to forever and always smell the same.

The universe seems to want to ruin that for you too.

“Latte, please,” you voice. “Iced.”

“We have a one plus one for the week! Would you like to receive another latte?” The lady taking your order looks no older than 17, a pep in her voice.

“Um, no thank you. Just one, please.”

She looks taken aback, a reasonable reaction to anyone turning down a free drink. But you couldn’t bring yourself to walk home with two cups in hand.

You’re plucking a napkin from the pickup counter when you hear his name.

“...that he manipulated her grade because they were hooking up.”

“He has time to hook up?”

“I remember hearing about that! She barged in during office hours and asked why he fixed her grade or something.”

“A ninety two? In that class? Oh, they were definitely fooling around with each other.”

“Whatever, at least we know he’ll entertain you if he likes you enough. I’m just glad those two are over so I can swoop in.”

There’s an eruption of giggles. You press your head down further.

“Unless he flirts in variables.”

“All is forgiven when you’re born with a face like that.”

Another explosion of giddy laughter, through which your drink is slid across the counter towards you, like it was waiting for you to hear the damning evidence before you could leave. You grab it anyway, grip tighter than usual.

Turning around, your eyes search, finding a group of people that sit in smiles and in various states of trust-falls.

There she is, the girl you sat with on the first day you attended office hours, the one with the glitter gel pen doodles on her notes and her blatant fawns over the TA you slipped under just as easily.

She locks eyes with you and her face falls, eyes widening the slightest bit in recognition.

Pressing your lips into a smile, you hope it doesn’t look as menacing as you feel. You don’t wait for a response before you walk out the large glass doors.

It’s Sunday.

It seems every sip of water you’ve taken during the week has been used up in all the tears you’ve seemed to be shedding. By the bucketload.

Alas, even blurry and puffy eyed, you pour over statistical formulas anyway, running on no energy and all antagonism. It’s another tutorial sheet left incomplete, a single question taking a pour that lasts in at least an hour of struggle.

Reading the same question for the nth time, your palms press into your temples as you stare lasers into the paper, like the revelation would come to you if you stared it down hard enough. It doesn’t make sense, the commands you’ve toggled on and off identical to the instructions on the page.

Hence the question begs why the data was coming out like someone pressed the ultimate on a number generator.

With a heat of unreasonable embarrassment, you find yourself checking your selection in one of the drop down menus, switching to bF01 and back just to see the difference. It does nothing to help, and you can’t help but feel a little relieved it wasn’t that particular snag.

The library is as silent as it could possibly be on a Sunday morning, near empty as you occupy the mostly vacant seats. The librarian is having her own day off, as you could swear she’s playing computer games behind the counter instead of actual work.

The only noise in the room is your own breathing, and that seems to be enough to mess with your concentration. You’re going cross eyed staring at the page for so long, the words doubling and disappearing before going back to normal.

Bayesian inference…z scores…null hypothesis…

Wait.

It’s like you can see it in front of your eyes right now, the scribble of someone else’s dark blue on your notes.

no null hypothesis in bayesian approach

Bayesian approaches don’t use null hypotheses. And z scores are in…

“Oh my god, this is a t test,” you whisper to yourself in disbelief. Immediately, you’re scrambling to shake your laptop out of its sleep, switching over to a t test to redo everything, following the instructions on the same data set.

And there it was…a clear 0.067 under the p value.

In a moment of questioning, you laugh out a breathy sound, the absurdity of it all becoming too real. T tests were the first thing you learned, the foundation to all your statistical knowledge. Coming so far, and it took you days to realise the instructions under a Bayesian approach were for a different realm entirely.

It was stupid of you. But in this difficult aftermath you can’t help but feel victorious. Laughing to yourself quietly in this empty library.

When the initial adrenaline fades and you’ve double, triple checked to ensure you were right, you can only stare at the tiny mail button in your shortcuts on the screen. It was clearly an error, one that was given out to nearly a hundred students.

The first step was clicking, your inbox coming to life as you drift towards the big blue button with the readily available NEW MAIL. So you click.

There’s an attached file in the email you draft.

The tutorial paper has titled t test instructions as a Bayesian approach. Just wanted to point it out and ask if I could receive a corrected version.

Regards, YN

It’s almost like you’re trying to remember how it feels like when you type an experimental m in the To bar. His name pops up immediately, email address typed out in full, full name clear on top as a regular contact.

You don’t need a suggestion to remember, his email came easier to you than your own.

But you don’t email him, backspacing till it’s empty once again.

Dr. Cho’s email sits in that place instead, a first for you.

SEND.

You don’t expect him to reply on a Sunday, in fact, you aren’t sure if he’s going to respond at all. You’ve already shut your laptop, half out of your seat in an attempt to pack up. You’re forced to consider.

Would it be terrible to go back and cc him as well?

A spiteful part of you might find joy in correcting him for a change. The rational part of you wants to actually finish the tutorial before tomorrow’s class when you’d have to tackle another beast for the rest of the week.

Sitting back down, you move without thinking. Your mind is still cooking up possibilities as you swing your screen open once again, still weighing as you click back into your inbox.

There’s a new email in your sent box after you’re done, a copy of the one you sent your professor, the same attachment and the same question; word for word. The only difference, a more familiar name in the address bar.

Before you can chicken out, you slam your laptop shut for the actual last time, shoving everything into your bag before the speeding thoughts can infiltrate your mind's barrier. You’re out the door before you know it, ready to be done with this.

You’re afraid if you put a hand to your stomach it’d be met with kicks and punches, especially with the way you feel the aggressive cartwheels slashing away at your insides. The butterflies are making it to the end of your food pipe, and you briefly wonder if you need to break into a sprint to make it to a safe throwing up zone. Your entire being jolts as you feel a buzz in your hands, a loud click that signifies a new email in your inbox.

Right there, in the middle of the sidewalk, you stop.

The grip you have on your phone is unyielding, your fingers beginning to hurt from the pressure. There’s no way to tell if you’re shaking or not, but you bring your phone to your face anyway. The screen flips on, a lone notification on the screen.

RE: Tutorial Error from Kim Mingyu

It couldn’t have been more than ten minutes since you sent that email, the library still in sight from where you stand. At the same time, it’s almost funny you expected any different from him.

The kicks and punches in your stomach halt, the cartwheels have calmed, the butterflies have fallen asleep. The grip on your phone has loosened, and it’s like every nerve in your body went from on fire to serenity in a whiplash inducing shift.

Clicking on the notification, the email opens.

Noted. I have another tutorial sheet for you if you want it. I’ll be in the room where office hours are held for the rest of the morning.

Kim Mingyu, T.A.

There was no way he didn’t have a softcopy he could send you in less than a minute, and you’re sure he knew you’d realise that too. You should scoff, be upset, roll your eyes.

But instead, you find your feet making a 180, turning around to go right back to where you came from. You walk, eyes still half trained on the email, reading and rereading as you walk back onto campus, towards the building you’d once considered a second home.

You walk, and walk and walk, in through the doors, up the stairs and then another set of them, you take a left and look up. The hallway is empty, the door on the right coming into view as you slow your steps significantly.

Closer and closer, you realise the light surrounding it is brighter than usual. The door is open, and you can see the empty rows of tables and chairs, set neatly against one another. It’s strange, you’ve never seen it wide open before.

Walking even closer, you can see the beginnings of the professor’s desk come into view, and it only takes you one more step forward.

Standing in the doorway now, you find yourself in the direct path of the sun that pours in through the open windows. It’s warm, but just enough to combat the cooling weather.

The desk up front is occupied, as it always is.

Mingyu is only in a t-shirt and trousers, glasses perched on his nose as he scrawls away on the paper in front of him. His laptop is turned on, screen facing the door where you stand, his inbox open and available even on the weekend.

It wasn’t that you were waiting for him to notice, but you found yourself inadvertently taking your time looking at him. Every other situation, you’d done your absolute best to avoid your eyes grazing over him at all costs, hardly drifting over his form before flitting away. You never did it on purpose, but it was more like you were unconsciously protecting yourself.

Like looking at him would only make the ache in your heart worse.

If that was the case, you would’ve been right. There’s a tug in your chest, and in that moment, it all comes flooding in like a gate destroyed.

Mingyu looks up and sees you in the doorway, standing immobile. He sets his pen down, taking his glasses off. There’s the smallest hint of a smile on his face as he greets you, “‘Morning.”

You take it as your cue to move forward, stepping foot into the patch of sun slowly. “‘Morning.”

You reach the desk, standing in front of him, the only thing blocking you being the littered table with files, papers and stationary; the trench between you both.

It’s so silent it tears at your insides, gripping the strap of your bag to have something to do.

“I, uh, double checked when I saw the email. You were right, nobody noticed in class either.” There’s an airiness in his voice, like he might be struggling just as much as you are right now.

He clears his throat when you don’t respond, looking back down at his workspace like he was looking for something. He finds a paper from some stack, handing it over to you.

“Thanks,” you hoarse. It’s the same tutorial you had, except the instructions had been crossed out, replaced by a list of handwritten instructions instead, detailed in their annotation. You recognise it, because of course you’d recognise his handwriting.

“I didn’t have time to print one out right now. I’ll probably send a corrected copy to everyone tonight,” he explains.

“That’s alright.” You look up, lips pressed together, eyebrows forced into a regular position on your face. Nodding, you thank him once again. “Thanks again. I’ll…get going.”

Every fibre in your body screams at you to turn back around, hollering profanities at your inability to deal with this. You’re already halfway to the door though, and your pride’s already deemed it too late.

Please stop me, please stop me, please stop me, please just say something and stop me—

There it is. Your name, from his mouth, in his beautiful voice.

Turning back around is the easiest thing you’ve ever done.

Mingyu has stood up from his seat, out from behind the desk. He looks like he wasn’t expecting you to turn back. “Can we talk?”

And then he’s pulling out the chair he was sitting on, presenting it like a piece offering. If you heard correctly, you could’ve sworn you heard his voice break the slightest bit when he pressed, “Please?”

So there you were, in a position all too familiar as you sit across from the man that’s haunted you for the past weeks, trying to keep your chest from falling in.

“I guess I should start with an apology,” he’s fidgeting with his own fingers. “I don’t need to give you excuses about stress or exhaustion because…”

He closes his eyes, trying to find the words. “I didn’t mean to lash out at you. You were only trying to help and I was too preoccupied with myself to notice. I’m sorry I spoke to you like that when you didn’t deserve it.”

For about the millionth time, you realise you’re tearing up again. He continues. “And then…right before the midterm too. You were right, I did feel horrible. But I swear that grade was all you, I didn’t touch those numbers.”

He really didn’t, because the papers he had thrust into your hands on that fateful day in this very room proved that you earned that mark. You wince regardless.

“I thought I could apologise before the exam started but I couldn’t find you, and then you were gone right after. I didn’t text or call because I was sure I’d fucked it all up.”

“I’m sorry too. For barging in in front of everyone and basically accusing you. I wasn’t thinking straight.” You look up from your lap, wet lashes and all. “I really hope you didn’t get into any trouble.”

“I–no, I didn’t.”

“Are you sure? Because—”

“I promise I didn’t.” He locked eyes with you when he said that, hoping you’d believe him. You nod slowly.

“It wasn’t even that bad, what you said,” you sniffled.

He scoffs at that, “I’d beg to differ.”

“I would’ve gotten over it,” you continue, bracing yourself to admit to something you’ve had trouble admitting to yourself. “I should’ve gotten over it. I don’t know why it hurt so much, why watching you walk out felt so horrible. But I haven’t been acting like normal ever since, and I’m sorry for stretching this whole fiasco out into something that didn’t need to turn into…this!”

“You were hurt because I hurt you.”

“People have said worse things to me. And you were practically a zombie, I should’ve just left it for another time. It was a little bit my fault too. But…yeah.”

There’s a silence as you try to remind yourself to breathe. You speak up again. “I just want us to go back to normal. I’ve missed you. Alot.”

“Me too. The go back to normal bit. And the…missed you bit.”

Mingyu’s half smiling when you look up, biting your lip hard as you try to keep a smile of your own at bay. “I’d thought if I gave up and admitted I was struggling that day, that’d be admitting defeat. That you’d think I…couldn’t do it.”

Why on earth do you care so much? It rings in your ears.

You sound light when you say it though, knowing now it wasn’t what he meant.“Since when are we on caring terms?”

Mingyu cringes. "We are. I am, at least, if you aren't anymore, which is fine. I care about you. A lot."

It’s hard to not let out a laugh. He looks half constipated as he tries to navigate his words.

“Oh well I’d hope you’d care, since you’re my TA and all.”

“Not in a TA way.”

“Tutor way.”

“Um.”

“Friend way? A human way?”

“No.”

You both know you’re being obtuse on purpose, and you aren’t sure why. Maybe you just like to watch him squirm.

“You know what?” he rasps.

“What?”

Your answer comes in the form of Mingyu lurching to grab the legs of your chair, pulling the wheels to crash into him where he sits. You’re not expecting it, the clashing legs causing you to swerve forward, hands on Mingyu’s lap.

And then his hand is on the back of your neck, and his lips placed on your own.

You’re stiff as a board, brain computing the fact that Mingyu is kissing you in a classroom.

It’s short, hardly a few moments before he pulls away. “Does that clear things up?”

There’s nothing you can do but blink at him, the reality of it all settles in. “Hm.”

He laughs at your half dazed state. It’s a purely instinctual part of you that speaks after this. “Maybe one more time. To make sure.”

Mingyu doesn’t even wait to laugh again as he wastes no time, putting his mouth on yours properly this time. There’s more of a drive in you this time, moving your mouth against his and he keeps your head close.

The ecstasy is slow but sure to build in your stomach. Mingyu is kissing you. Mingyu is sitting with you and kissing you so good you’re already half faint.

His mouth tastes like coffee and remnants of berry, a combination you can’t believe you could enjoy this much. Licking into his mouth, you let your tongue drag over his, like the tactile would convince you this wasn’t some too vivid fever dream.

He pulls away for a moment, but hardly so as his lips remain pressed onto yours.

“For the record,” he pants. “I love that you care. And I hope you’ll keep caring. Because I don’t think I can handle it if you walk away after this.”

Mouth back on his own, you decide there’s only one way to convince him you weren’t going anywhere without dragging him with you.

MINGYU'S APARTMENT IS CLEANER than you expected. You aren’t sure what you were expecting, perhaps more mad scientist than anything else. But the most you find is a mug and plate in the sink, and a moderately crowded study desk, which is to be expected.

Mingyu decided to abandon his work for the day to spend it with you, to which you contest that it was Sunday anyway. His response is making you change into something comfortable of his so you could laze on his couch.

Like you would run away if he didn’t, Mingyu keeps his arms around you in a tight hold, fingers curling around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. Your head rests directly over his heart, his cheek and lips taking turns to occupy the top of your head.

You fill him in on everything, and realise the most eventful weeks you’ve spent were actually quite uneventful in hindsight. He feels up your cheek and forehead when you tell him you got sick at one point, to which you have to reassure him it was either something going around or stress that you subjected on yourself.

“I went to a frat party,” Mingyu mumbles into your forehead. “For Halloween.”

The information has you shifting to look up at him in bewilderment, “You went to a frat party?”

He snorts, “Dressed up for it too.”

“Oh my god,” you voice in mild horror. “Do I wanna know?”

“Wonwoo and I matched,” he hums as he pulls out his phone, scrolling his gallery to look for pictures. “I was Mario, he was Luigi.”

“How adorable.”

He only gives you a look and shoves the phone in your face. By some grace of god they aren’t wearing moustaches, but the distinct red and green outfits are enough to give you enough recognition.

“Thing 1 and Thing 2 were also possible contenders,” he informs.

“That might’ve been a little better.”

“What’s wrong with Mario?” he asks sharply.

“Nothing. But I do hope you weren’t sporting an Italian accent throughout that.”

“I was,” he pushes. “A horrible one too.”

You give him the satisfaction of an eye roll.

“You could’ve gone as Peach. We could’ve matched.”

“I don’t know if I’d wanna wear any available Peach costumes during Halloween time.” You crinkle your nose as you think of all the racy costumes that unearth every October.

“Maybe in private,” he says with an insufferable smile on his face.

Placing your hands flat on his chest, you rest your chin and look up at him. “I’m not sure I want to interrupt whatever you two have going on.”

“Who?”

“You and Wonwoo, you’re practically married.”

Mingyu laughs out loud, and you can feel the rumble in his chest against your hands, his body moving against your own that’s stuck to him. “Not with whatever he has going on with his girl.”

“Oh right,” you frown in remembrance. “What happened to not understanding how he does it?”

“Hm?”

“He’s a TA too. Probably just as busy as you. You said you didn’t know how he could juggle a relationship and his job at the same time.”

His eyes spark in remembrance, pausing for a moment. “I may owe him an apology.”

“Do you?”

Mingyu frowns, “Actually no I don’t. I don’t think he and his lady are doing too well right now. He’s been insufferable lately.”

“Is it because of the TA-ing?”

“I never know with those two,” he sighs.

There’s silence once again, in the midst of which Mingyu leans over to kiss you a few times, soft and lingering. Like he’s trying to familiarise himself with the shape of your mouth, the tactile feeling of kissing you.

“Do you…know about us?” There’s hesitancy in the way you ask. But you can’t help but ask anyway.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, and it has your heart beating out of your chest. “I know that I want us to be concrete. That I wanna work around whatever life throws at us. You can decide what to call it, but I know I’m in it for the long run.”

“I’m glad you’re smarter than your husband,” you smile.

He only rolls his eyes, “He’s only good at one kind of chemistry.”

“D’you think they’ll be okay?”

“Oh yeah,” he assures. “They’re just going through a…rough patch.”

“Like we did?”

“If you’re asking me, I’d say they’re being a little more stupid about it.”

The snort that leaves you is unanimous with his own. He continues, “They’ll be okay though.”

“I hope so. I’d like to go on double dates with my boyfriend’s husband’s girlfriend.” You start giggling in the middle of your sentence, too ridiculous even for you to voice.

“This is getting weird,” Mingyu breathes.

You only hum against his mouth, “Do I have to take your husband's blessing before we can move forward?”

“For fuck’s sake.”

You’re both laughing again, a sound that comes from your stomachs, true and uncontrollable. For a moment, you can’t help but be conscious of how light you feel, how happy you feel with his scent infiltrating your nostrils, his presence known where his fingertips touch you.

“I did the sticky note thing again too,” Mingyu says into the silence, and there’s nothing you can do to stop the fit of giggles that erupt all over again.

“Said something worse this time,” he continues as you laugh into his chest. “Accept that you’ll die alone or some other shit like that.”

There’s comfort in this moment. In your giggles and in your tears, in his voice and in his affection. His lips are another sanctuary you’ve found, and perhaps even another way to make your dreaded latch click.

Nose nuzzled in his cheek, the feeling of his skin so soft against yours, fingers at his chin where a slight stubble grows, you relax in ways you cannot comprehend.

MINGYU'S LIPS BECOME A feeling you’ve grown dangerously accustomed to.

It isn’t that he has them on you too much, regardless of what an outsider might suggest; to you they simply aren’t on you enough.

The following Monday went as usual, for you anyway. You weren’t avoiding Mingyu this time, and you were grateful for it. It was two hours of following him with your eyes as he darted around the room. You could hardly constitute it as not paying attention when Dr. Cho was preoccupied with explaining every reason he hates JASP over SPSS, but also ultimately, hates them both.

You don’t even notice his loud outfit (overalls and a neon green sweater underneath), happy to watch Mingyu flit about and whisper incoherent explanations to students.

The tutorial paper is barely looked at by you, because you know your boyfriend will be happy to help you out later at his place.

You’re barely through the door that night when he gets a hold of you, tight grip across your waist as you’re catapulted into his arms, door slammed shut behind you.

Bag still on your shoulders and your shoes still on, Mingyu’s slammed his mouth onto yours before you can take a proper breath. You stumble, squealing through the kiss as you realise you aren’t escaping the iron grip he’s got on your face.

Somehow between it all, you manage to slip your bag off to let it drop to the floor of his doorway, shoes kicked off one after the other as he leads you inside, littering the way.

“You aren’t actually paying attention in class anyway,” he breathes against your mouth before kissing you again. “So why don’t you sit in the back where you don’t distract me.”

“Who says I’m not paying attention.” You open your as your back lands on the couch, looking at him as he looms overhead.

“You’re paying attention to me.”

“It was in my job description when I signed up for the girlfriend position.”

He’s all over you now, hands at your sides, mouth underneath your earlobes as he husks, “Was letting me take you in front of the entire class also a clause? Because if this goes on I might have to take up on that.”

If you didn’t know any better you would’ve assumed he’d been possessed, everything about his behaviour screaming the opposite of the well behaved, restrained man you’ve been accustomed to. The fact that he’s whispering directly into your ears isn’t helping either, a conspicuous shiver dragging across your spine.

It lands with precision, right at your core. You’re too hot to tell, but there isn’t a doubt you’ve begun to pool.

There’s a ding in the background.

He’s suckling underneath your ear, his hands roaming in ways that would smear your reputation altogether.

Another ding.

He’s reached your mouth once again, groping your right breast lightly. Like he’s testing the waters.

Ding.

Mingyu makes a noise of annoyance, the other hand trailing underneath your shirt.

His ringtone blares throughout the room, whoever the caller was having reached wit’s end.

“Gyu…” you whisper.

“Ignore it,” he growls. The ringing has stopped.

He ducks underneath to kiss at your stomach, lifting your shirt oh so slowly. He goes higher, and higher and higher, leaving a trail of kisses at the skin, taking deep breaths as he drags his mouth over your torso.

His phone begins to ring again.

Your head is spinning, your senses overcome. If you weren’t sure before, the air of wetness between your legs is definitely obvious now.

He brings a hand to your centre, pushing inwards at your jean clad core. You exhale sharply yet shakily.

The ringing stops.

Mingyu makes a gumbled sound that you can’t quite make out, too preoccupied with the way your shirt is now up past your bra, at which Mingyu has taken to leaving open mouthed kisses to your cleavage.

There’s a ding.

“Mingyu, I really think—”

His phone begins to ring again.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he curses, rearing his head like an interrupted animal, wet mouthed and bleary eyed. He looks at his buzzing phone on the floor in an accusatory glare, like he wants to chuck it out the window and go right back to burrowing into your chest.

“You should answer.”

He looks irritated as he takes his phone in his hands, and you find a flash of Dr. Cho’s name on the screen. “It’s eleven O’clock.”

“It might be important.”

“The last time he did this he asked where his peacock feather pen was,” he grunts as he silences his phone.

You laugh, running a soothing hand through Mingyu’s hair, a tiny attempt to calm him down. Pulling your shirt down, you attempt to sit up.

Mingyu makes a noise of denial, attempting to stick his face into your now clothed chest, knocking you back down, “Nooooo, I’m gonna ignore him.”

“He’s not going to leave you alone,” you sing quietly, running your nails across his scalp lightly, holding his head to your chest. You place your cheek on his head, playing with his ear.

As if to prove your point, Mingyu’s phone begins to ring again, and he groans at the prospect.

“Go on.”

He swipes to answer it. A loud sigh and then a tired, “Hello?”

His volume is bumped up enough for you to make out what’s being said on the other line. “Where have you been?”

“It’s nearly eleven, sir. I was in bed.”

“My flash drive won’t open up on my computer.”

You have to stifle a snort.

“Is it…plugged in?”

“Of course it is, I’m not an idiot.”

“Is it showing up on your files?”

“Disk…is not…formatted.”

“Erm, it might be corrupted.”

“How did that happen?”

“Did you download something off the internet onto it?”

“Hardly matters, I need the attendance sheet on it!”

Your fingers are massaging Mingyu’s temples as you feel him tense on top of you.

“Your attendance sheet is on the teacher’s portal,” Mingyu grits before adding, “sir.”

“...I have other things on there too.”

Mingyu exhales ever so quietly and you tighten your hold on him a smidge. “This sounds like something tech support could help with.”

“Why can’t you help?” he asks sharply.

“I…I don’t know how, sir.”

There’s a noise of indignation from the other end, and you can’t help but keep from laughing.

Mingyu sighs into the phone, this time doing nothing to hide it. “I’ll take it to tech support for you tomorrow. And I’ll send you a direct link for the attendance sheet for Monday and Tuesday’s classes.”

The line beeps shut. Mingyu brings the phone for you both to see the professor’s hung up as soon as the words left Mingyu’s mouth.

“Wow,” you whisper into the silence, the weight of Mingyu’s head heavier on your chest. “Not even a thank you.”

“Absent father behaviour,” Mingyu grumbles as he moves his face to burrow into your shirt.

It’s a bad joke, but you laugh anyway.

“Will I be an asshole if I say I’m not in the mood anymore?” he murmurs.

“Absolutely not. Everything sucked right back in the minute I heard his voice on the line.”

“Gross,” he comments, but he’s laughing too.

“Should we call it a night?” he asks, rearing his head.

Nodding, you rise with him. By the time you’ve reached the bedroom, you’ve already begun taking off your accessories, fiddling with your bracelet as you voice.

“I need a shower.”

Mingyu throws you a towel and a t-shirt, which you catch and move towards the bathroom. Halfway through the door, you sneak a look at him fiddling with his belt.

“Do you wanna come in too?”

Mingyu looks at you peering through the door frame. You’ve never seen anyone leap across the room as quickly as in that moment.

THE FOLLOWING DAYS WERE just as eventful as that phone call, Mingyu running around as the midterm low passed and the line creeped up towards finals season.

Perhaps it was better that you stopped attending office hours, because the room seems to become increasingly packed as the days progressed.

You only ever saw Mingyu in the wee hours of the night at his place, where he begged you to camp out till the end of the semester so he “doesn’t move to insanity”. It might even be better for you, going about your day as usual, without the usual added distraction of a partner.

Coming home to him was easier, where he could clear up your doubts while in ratty pyjamas and starfished across the bed, where you could find solace in Mingyu’s chest without prying eyes when the information became like filling an already stuffed junk drawer.

It was a Friday night, you’re alone at Mingyu’s place sitting cross legged on the floor. The table in front of you is pouring over the final question of this week’s tutorial paper, everything seemingly whizzing right past the top of your head.

Despite that, as Mingyu stumbles inside past eleven, you know you shouldn’t ask him for a thing.

Tired was a look on Mingyu you’d gotten quite used to, so you’ve learned to not comment and simply let him fall into the couch cushions with all his weight.

His face is parallel to yours as he closes his eyes with a light groan in greeting. Moving forward, you kiss the flutter of his eyelids softly, down to the apple of his cheeks, the tip of his nose, the corner of his mouth.

Your fingers run through his tangled and distressed hair as he mumbles against your mouth. “Did you finish the tutorial paper?”

You huff in mild annoyance, that despite his state he still thinks about work. “Not yet. One last question and I’m done.”

He hums and waits a moment before reopening his eyes. With a loud groan he’s pushing himself off the couch, sliding off of it to sit with you on the uncomfortable floor. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

“I can figure it out myself, Gyu.”

“You would’ve been done by now if you could,” he answers. It’s annoying that he says it but he’s also right.

Mingyu holds the paper a mere inch from his eyes, the sight almost comical if he also didn’t look an inch from passing out.

He mumbles the question as he reads, “It’s nothing, just worded weird. Toggle this off and move this to mixed factors and you’re done.”

The toggles are done for you, and Mingyu takes the liberty crossing he question off with a pen he finds on the table.

“Did you get everything else?” he asks in earnest.

“Hm? I think so.”

“Good.” And then he’s throwing his head back to rest it on the couch cushions behind him, breathing slowly.

He’s in a navy sweater, collar of his undershirt peeking through the top. Your gaze leads up further, to the exposed area of his throat—clean, tan and naked. You realise this might not be a good time, but it’s only natural your mind cooks up other ways to translate your helplessness as you watch your boyfriend push himself to the brink. Release is never a bad idea.

Besides, it’s a Friday night. No reason to not.

“Gyu,” you shuffle closer.

Lolling his head to look over at you, he answers in a small voice, “Yeah?”

You put on the guiltiest face you can muster, complete with darting eyes and fidgeting fingers. “D’you think…d’you think you can go over post hoc tests again?”

“Post hoc?” He furrowed his eyebrows. You bite the inside of your cheek, having blurted the first plausible model you could think of to ask him. It’s an older bit of the syllabus, something you should already be well versed in.

Not that you care what he thinks right now, he’d figure out why you were asking anyway.

“Post hoc, um,” he rubs a hand over his face as if to jog his memory.

Shifting forward, you plaster you front onto his side. He thinks nothing of it.

“Analysis tool after you’ve already run the data,” he begins.

Placing your chin on his shoulder, you let your nose nuzzle against his cheek. Trailing up, your lips find the shell of his ear.

“Results have to be…they have to be…” He falters when your hand reaches his front, running across the expanse of his clothes stomach, nails digging ever so slightly as you reach his abdomen. You continue to place open mouthed kisses at the space of neck you can reach.

“Hm? Has to be what?”

“Statistically significant,” he breathes when your palms reach the tops of his thighs. “To run a post hoc test.”

His trousers are less barrier inducing than regular jeans, something you’re both grateful for as you begin to palm his clothed bulge. “Results of what, baby?”

“For the love of—”

“Go on,” you whisper in his ear. “Please.”

One flick and his trousers are unbutton, pulling them aside as the zipper pulls open. You're pushing down his boxers when he answers you. “ANOVA.”

“What’s that again?”

“You little shit.”

You move your mouth forward to kiss him.

“Analysis of variance.”

You hum against the column of his throat at that, his half hard member in your hands. Light touches, that’s all they are, running the pads of your fingers across the pulsing length, coaxing him into full length.

“What’s it for though? We already got our results.” Bending forward, you stick your tongue to kitten lick at his tip. Mingyu hisses, hips shifting. Your tongue swirls around the tip, pushing into the skin on the head where he’s most sensitive.

“Ugh, fuck, for um,” he falters as you begin to suck at his head, tongue running over each hollow of your cheeks.

“For…for…” His chest is moving up and down in quick breathes, every sound from his mouth coming from a deep rumble in his stomach.

Letting go of his cock, you continue to pump him with your hand as you gaze up at him from your position. “For? Keep talking, baby.”

“For…To identify groups,” he grunts out. He lets out a louder moan when you place your mouth back on him, going past his tip and taking as much as you can of him into your mouth. “Identify…the differences, shit, hmph.”

He takes a loud breath before speeding through it again, “Identify which groups actually differ, oh my god.”

The bit of him that you can’t fit on your mouth is being pumped by your hands, fingers pushing into him like you were trying to indent them on the base of his cock. A glance upwards and you find his head thrown back, hands coming to tangle in your hair. His thumb caresses the side of your cheek.

“How many groups?” you ask, before diving back in.

“Three,” he chokes out. “Three or more, oh I’m gonna cum, fuck don’t stop, holy shit.”

Both of his hands are at your head, guiding you as you suck him harder, faster, more tongue digging into his slit. You hum against his dick on purpose, making sure it’s coarse enough to get the reaction you want.

You succeed, because immediately after you hear Mingyu rip out the loudest moan you’ve ever heard, his grip on your strands harder than ever. He cums into your mouth, hips stuttering as you place your entire weight on him to keep him in place.

You let some of it dribble out your mouth and back over his softening dick like a hot coating, sucking him through shooting spurts of cum that land on your tongue.

When you emerge from underneath, Mingyu looks like he got the soul sucked out of him; eyes closed, stuttered breaths raking through his entire body, a light sheen of the beginnings of sweat that glisten in the low light of the room.

Reaching for the tissue box and water bottle on the table, you soak the napkins and bring them to clean him up. He whines when the cold tissues touch him where he’s most sensitive right now, you want to kiss him but account for the cum that is actively stuck to the walls of your mouth.

You leave for a few minutes, much to Mingyu’s hoarse protests. He’s almost on all fours, hands on the floors as you promise to be back. By the time you’ve hauled his tired ass into bed, you’re just as ready to knock out as the half asleep man beside you.

Mingyu’s face is plastered into your neck, arms and legs thrown over your form as he hugs you close to him.

“I might love you,” he says into the darkness. A secret, just for you and the walls to hear.

You hide the way your heart absolutely leaps, conceal the way your hands tighten around his form into an affectionate caress, hold your breath to prevent the inevitable hitch.

I might love you too.

You hide that as well. For now.

Smiling into the skin of his temples, you sigh.

“Feel free.”

[Mingyu]: class ended early

[Mingyu]: be there in 5

[You]: ???

[You]: wdym ended early

[You]: kim did u end class early to come home

Your response comes in the form of the front door lock jiggling loudly. You’d stayed the night at his place, knowing you didn’t have anything to do but study by yourself. Sickly as you were, you doubt you could sit through two hours of even more statistics.

He’d left you in bed with a kiss, needing to be extra early since Dr. Cho decided to dump the last crucial few weeks leading up to finals season entirely on his TA. As much as there was on Mingyu’s already overflowing plate now, you couldn’t deny the elated feeling of your attendance being taken care of regardless of whether you show up to class or not.

A very real violation, but no one truly notes one skipped student in the midst of hundreds. Besides, the bag under Mingyu’s pretty eyes might be enough for anyone to have mercy and let the supposed mistake slide.

As Mingyu walks into the room, shoes flying and back dumped on the floor, he finds you still half clothed with leftover sleep in your eyes, standing in the middle of the living space like you were lost.

He drops his things to come and drown you in his arms, loud kisses all over your face as you talk. “You’re getting too comfortable with this job.”

“Am I?”

“Yes.”

“Can’t possibly expect me to teach a bunch of half asleep idiots when my woman is all alone at home, sickly and cold without me.”

You grumble wordlessly as you feel him check your temperature with the back of his hand. “How’s the congestion?”

“Bad,” you respond nasally. “I can’t find my Afrin.”

“It’s on the bedside table, baby.”

“No, it’s not.”

Still wrapped in his hold, Mingyu begins to take steps forward that lead towards the bed, pushing you to walk backwards.

“I’m not awake enough to navigate,” you sniff.

“I’ve got you,” he lowtones, pushing backwards slowly.

The back of your knees hit the bed and you let yourself fall back into the unmade sheets. You crawl back under the covers as Mingyu navigates between used tissues, water bottles and pills on the bedside table. But no sign of your nasal spray.

You have to breathe through your mouth and you hate it, but you send a remark his way anyway. “Told you.”

Mingyu bends down and emerges with a familiar red capped bottle. He stares at you while you stare at it, choosing to simply snatch it from his presenting hands and be done with it.

“Good thing I came back early, hm?”

“Shut up.”

He leaps over your form to claim the spot in bed right next to you, still fully clothed as he burrows under the covers next to you.

There’s nothing flattering about the way you stick the nozzle up your nostrils and sniff hard, but the gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes might as well suggest you were trying to get him to look at you like that.

“Are you gonna keep doing this till finals?” you ask throatily, shifting under the covers.

“Teaching during class time is just extended office hours, I’m gonna go insane if I keep going like this. Probably just today. Or…once more if I feel it.”

“Didn’t you say you were gonna extend office hours to Fridays too?”

Mingyu moulded himself against you, giving warmth to your shivering body even under thick blankets.

It seems throughout the course of your relationship, your time with Mingyu is either spent laying down or in the process of doing so. Not that you mind, you’ve found that remaining horizontal was what worked best for someone like Mingyu who seemed to want to fuse with your very being whenever you were together.

“Ugh, not this week. Do not have the patience.”

“I’m proud of you,” you say, eyes closed, already on the highway to dreamland.

“Thank you, I do think I’ve been very brave.” Even while slipping into dreamland, you find the good sense to find his nipple through his sweater and give it a hard pinch. He jerks away in a yelp, clutching his chest.

“What’s that for?!”

You ignore him and simply run your hand over the area you just attacked. “You’ve gotten better at knowing when to slow down. I’m proud of you.”

You’re too far gone to make out what he answers you with, but with the hot breath against your already warm forehead, you decide it's more than enough for you.

MINGYU DOES IT FOR the fourth time, but this time round he’s smart enough to not tell you.

It’s the Friday before finals week officially begins, and you remain in your own place for once to crack down on the last bits of syllabus you want to go over, away from your extremely distracting boyfriend.

There’s a text when you check your phone after a couple hours of hyperfocus, and you narrow your eyes at the notification.

It’s Wonwoo’s (actual) girlfriend, and she’s sent you nothing but a picture of both of your men on Wonwoo’s living room floor, thoroughly occupied with the floored expanse of sheets, pillows and cushions.

It’s a pillow fort.

Your boyfriend is building a pillow fort in his not-husband’s living room mere days before the final exam for the most dreaded course of the semester. All while he’s actively meant to be available for office hours.

You want to laugh. The man that stayed up multiple nights to answer stupid questions in emails, is now less than concerned about the pandemonium that is probably ensuing in the department building. It isn’t that you’re upset, because this was what you wanted from him. To learn to take a break when it was needed. But you would also prefer he’d time them a little better.

Inevitably, you text him, but not before sending an encouraging text to your girlfriend-in-law for putting up with the both of them all by herself.

[You]: where are you

[Mingyu]: where im meant to be?

[You]: office hours?

[Mingyu]: mhm

[You]: are u and ur husband conducting them under a pillow fort in his house

You imagine him sending Wonwoo’s girlfriend a betrayed look. Perhaps even throw a frilled throw pillow in her unassuming direction.

[Mingyu]: DONT KILL ME

You let him suffer in your silence, clicking your phone off and leaving it somewhere you won’t be tempted to look.

Besides, it wasn’t long before there was an incessant banging at your door that you ended up needing to get up to open. He looks so timid, the face of an innocent perpetrator that waltzes into your space.

“I’m sorry,” he begins, following you to your desk like a lost duckling.

“Whatever for?”

“For lying.”

You snort as you sift through tutorial sheets, “Might wanna take that up to the poor hopeless student that thought you were their last hope.”

Mingyu’s head sinks to your shoulder where you sit at your desk. “God.”

“Him too.”

In another few moments, his arms have come around to cage you into your desk where you’re sat, hands placed on the table as he towers over the top of your head, mouth to crown.

“Rumour has it,” he starts.

You make a face. “Now you’ve joined in on gossip? Maybe I have steered you wrong.”

He ignores you valiantly as his mouth drops lower, down to the beginnings of the tips of your ears. You can smell him. He smells good.

“That a textbook recitation is all it takes to get you all bothered down there.”

Lifting your head from its craned position over your papers, you stare straight ahead. Blank and unassuming.

“Take a hike, Kim.”

“...Sorry.”

NO MATTER HOW FAKE annoyed you were at your boyfriend, you cannot possibly credit anyone else for how smooth your finals had gone.

Not a single tear, hack or whine. Your meals were on time, your sleep schedule the healthiest it’s been for months. You even managed a movie night break in the midst of it all. A record for you.

The very first thing you do after walking out of the exam hall, stretching and sighing, you find Mingyu waiting with nervous eyes.

“Well?” he asks, eyes wide and lips pulled into his teeth.

You merely grab for his hand and pull him out of the crowded hall and past a few familiar turns.

“For the record I didn’t want some of the questions on there,” he yaps as he follows behind your stalks. “Hard ones weren’t mine. I promise I’m not a sadist.”

Then, in an un-CCTV’d corner, marked by the broken, empty vending machine, you round up on him. In seconds you’ve pulled him down to meet your lips in an eager, full kiss.

In the moments your lips remain intact, you can feel all the horrid statistical knowledge you’d gathered over the months slip out the cracks and crevices, relieving you.

Mingyu is careful to let you pull away first, eyes sticky to open when you do. There’s a smile on your face. “It went great.”

A strong tug against your waist and you’re suddenly pressed into Mingyu’s all too familiar hold, so everloving tight you can hardly breathe. His lips are smacking and pressing into your skin, all over your face, neck and hands. Anywhere he could possibly reach.

There wasn’t much he could do standing in a huddled corner at nine in the morning on a Tuesday, where anyone could pass by and question what in the high school was going on. But there was more than enough Mingyu could do behind closed doors.

In true Mingyu fashion, he’s begun to grope in every way you love the minute the lock clicks shut of his apartment, every fibre of both of your beings giddy and jumpy, giggles erupting from your tired mouths. You haven’t been touched in ages, always too tired to do anything even when you would find the time.

It isn’t remotely strange that you're wet from only a few kisses and hot breaths against your neck. Although Mingyu’s hands haven’t been modest either, already reaching your clothed cunt as you fall into bed.

He says it was your reward, for doing so good, his illustrious mouth suctioned onto your naked core, moving and grinding in ways you can more than just appreciate.

His tongue is nothing below made for you, like he knows exactly when to flick his tongue, graze his teeth and all but suck the daylights out of you. It’s marvellous, even more so as you realise he won’t stop. One, two, three mind blowing orgasms later, your legs still shake around his head as you cry out for him to stop.

Not that he was going to listen, as he did not the last fifteen times you tried, simply pushing a finger into your abused hole to chuck you into yet another climax. You’re sobbing, trembling, sweating; but also half hearted in your attempts to stop him.

By the time he’s relented, you’re sure you won’t feel a thing down there for at least a week. If Mingyu will even let you go untouched for that long.

But as you’re finally able to catch your long lost breath in bed, and Mingyu has curled up right beside you, like he always does, you let the finality of it all sink in. You were done. And so was he. And you could now begin to experience a Mingyu that wasn’t exhausted, stressed or tired. Even now, the long indented layers of fatigue begin to melt away, revealing a less strained man.

Mingyu was beautiful either way.

“Are you okay?” he asks you, his fingers tracing your features.

The pads of his fingers glide across your eyelids, down the slope of your nose, tracing the outline of your lips. You kiss his fingers as they reach you there, hand coming up to hold his wrists. You kiss the tips of his fingers, down to the palm of his hand. Eyes closed, you keep your lips there.

“More than okay,” you mumble.

“Good. Thought I lost you there.”

Stretching unceremoniously, you drape yourself over his naked form, head on his shoulder. “You’re not losing me. Not after being the sole reason I pass this devil’s module.”

“Is that all it takes? Make sure you don’t fail?”

“And give head like that.” It’s a half joke. “But also be Kim Mingyu comma TA.”

He mimics you between a breathy laugh, “Comma TA. Not anymore, I guess.”

“How happy are you?”

“Still have to grade the last set of papers. But I got what I wanted.”

“The recommendation? You deserve it.”

“That, and not having to be in Dr. Cho’s presence every other day. And you.”

You kiss his shoulder. “Look at you. All grown up with your big boy grad school on the horizon.”

“Not just yet.”

“You’ll get there too. If you can power through this hellsent semester, you can power through anything grad school applications throw.”

Mingyu shifts where he lays, taking a turn to lie on his side to face you. The afternoon sun peeks from behind his form, his outline made of pure gold. His breath is in your face as he talks, and there’s comfort in the air it penetrates.

“I only powered through this because of you. I hope you know that.” He’s smiling.

“Girlfriend duties,” you quote solemnly.

“I mean it. I knew I was walking into disaster with how this stupid job was going, all that work was just a distraction. I didn’t wanna believe this was a bad idea. And then you walked in.”

You cup his face and pout, “Oh, my damsel in distress.”

“Hm, my knight in shining armour,” he giggles. “Galloped in and saved me from myself.”

“You saved me too. From the world and its horrible creations.”

“I’ll start talking in formulas if this keeps up.”

You can only grumble in mild annoyance.

“I’m glad I asked you to come in early that day,” he says.

“I’m glad I was a good samaritan and gathered all your stuff that day.” You grin.

Mingyu leans in and kisses you. It’s soft, slow, and drips of the romance he’s trying to bring into the conversation. His lips are bliss, the feeling of him is bliss.

It’s almost scary how easily you’ve been able to give yourself to him. How quickly he’s placed himself in every nook and cranny of your heart. With his tired eyes and stronger than himself smile, the hand he extended in ways beyond you could ever explain to him. It’s terrifying when you realise what remains on the tip of your tongue, ready and bursting.

But it’s true, and you can only pray it remains that way. Because in that moment, naked and tangled between Mingyu’s limbs, his heart in your ears, your hands on his being, you just know.

“I think I might love you too.”

3K notes · View notes

ginevrapng · 1 year ago

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bfd!marauders who pick you up after a night out and take care of you. you've had a girls night with your friends and have become absolutely wasted, in this state you don't know who to call to pick you up. harry is staying at ron's which is over 40 minutes away and you can't wait out in the cold outside of the club for 40 minutes. you definitely don't want to call your family members, not prepared tonight for a lecture about how drunk you are and how late you are out at so you call harry's dad, that makes the most sense to you. james is always so kind and you stay at his so often you're sure he'll pick you up.

you ring james and he seems worried at the fact you're calling at such a late hour as you drunkenly explain to him that you need a ride. james obviously doesn't hesitate to come get you, he's been up all night with sirius and remus but luckily he hasn't been drinking so he's good to pick you up. james gets to you quicker than you thought he would, you thought it takes longer but you're too cold and too drunk to properly think about it.

james rushes out of the car as he sees you waiting outside, shivering and hugging your arms. "shit sweetheart, you look freezing," he looks at you with worried eyes as he takes of his denim jacket and drapes it over your shoulders before placing his hand on your lower back leading you to the car. sober you would be incredibly flushed about this exchange and drunk you is just the same, your cheeks heat up and your stomach flutters with butterflies, you shiver again but this time it's due to james.

you don't even realise but james drives you to his house, halfway there you notice that you're going the wrong route. "where are we going?" you lift your head off from the car window and cock your head to the side.

james can't help but grin at how cute you look, "back to mine, it's quicker. we can get you some water and then you can stay in harry's room," he explains looking at you in the corner of his eye.

"okay," you say quietly and mumble the words to the songs on the radio.

as you walk through the door remus and sirius both quickly stand up from their seats, having been worried about you. james leads you inside as you sit on the sofa right next to where sirius was. sirius sits back down, james sits next to him and remus hovers above you all. "did'ya have a nice night doll?" sirius asks you and smirks, leaning further back on the sofa.

you hum and nod your head. "yeah it was good, a bit tired now though."

"i'll get you some water," remus leaves to go fetch you a drink as you settle down next to sirius. remus comes back and hands you the water, sitting across from you. you drink some but go and place the glass on the side before remus interrupts, "you've gotta drink it all," he says firmly with a slight smile. the tone he uses makes you think very inappropriate thoughts, it's not the first time you've thought of him like that and it certainly won't be the last but you know you're going to remember that stern tone he used when you're lying in bed at night or spending nights alone. you down the rest of the drink, doing what you were told and remus goes to take the glass out of your hands, "good girl." his hand brushes against you and you felt like you nearly whimpered. he's just so hot it's making you feel things, being in a room with three attractive men is making you feel things.

sirius had to suppress a chuckle as he heard your breathing hitch when remus touched you. "met any lucky fellas tonight doll?" sirius teasingly asks as he moves closer to you, you don't notice.

"nope, just me," you reply as you look down at your lap. all the guys eyes fall to your lap with you, staring at your thighs and how your pretty skirt is short and how it's also ridden up a bit too. they stay silent for a second and you think maybe the conversation is over or they don't have anything to say but really they're all distracted wondering what you'd feel like in their arms and how good you'd taste.

james clears his throat, realising that no one has answered you, "no one's good enough for you anyway sweetheart," james grabs your hand in his and squeezes. you feel his callous hand against your soft one and bite your lip to try and stop yourself from smiling all this accomplishes though is for james' gaze to shift down to you lips and stare.

"he's right," remus agrees earnestly and looks at you fondly.

you see sirius wink at you, making you feel warm, "it's true."

"thank you," you say softly.

"you're welcome sweetheart," james grins at you and you smile back.

5K notes · View notes

punkshort · 1 year ago

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i know who you are | 1. the beginning

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader

Chapter Summary: A head injury on patrol causes you to lose your memories of the outbreak and the people you have grown to know and love over the last ten years.

Chapter Warnings: language, descriptions of blood and wounds, vomiting, angst, amnesia

WC: 7.6K

A/N: I shortened the timeline a bit - all of the events from the first game have happened, but this takes place ten years after the outbreak instead of twenty.

Series Masterlist

Pain.

That was all you could recognize at first. The back of your head throbbed so badly, you couldn't even open your eyes. There were sounds, but they were unidentifiable through the searing, red hot pain radiating across the back of your skull. Tenderly, you reached your hand back to press against the source. You recoiled instantly, the pain too much to bear. A thick and sticky wetness coated your fingers.

Then you smelled it.

The smell of metal. Coppery, familiar. Then... did you smell fireworks? Was it the Fourth of July? A few years back, your older brother was messing around with fireworks and nearly blew off his hand, ending the night in the emergency room. Your parents never let him forget it. Is that what happened? Did he make some stupid bet with you? A game of chicken wasn't out of the realm of possibility. He always brought out your competitive side.

You forced your eyes open just a crack, the sun immediately causing you to close them again. It was too bright and your brain was vibrating like it was trying to escape from the confines of your skull.

You were outside. It wasn't dark, fireworks wouldn't make sense. What was going on?

Then you heard your name. Someone shouting it, over and over, panic stricken.

You tried to hold up your hand, wave them off, tell them to stop being so loud, but you could barely lift your hand before the nausea hit. Unable to stop yourself, you rolled onto your side, your head screaming and punishing you for the sudden movement as you heaved, emptying the contents of your stomach into the grass. The force of it made your head hurt even more, if that was even possible.

The smell of acid mixed with the smell of metal, now.

Maybe you were dying.

Someone's hands were on your shoulders, pushing you onto your back, yelling your name over and over.

"Stop," you pleaded weakly, tears springing into your eyes. The pain was too much.

"Jesse! Get her water!"

You groaned and covered your face with your palms. The sunlight was so fucking bright that you could even see it through your eyelids, a red glow everywhere you looked. You needed darkness. You needed quiet.

"Here, drink," you heard a man's voice say, then the hard plastic pressed against your lower lip. You whimpered and tried to pull away, the thought of anything in your stomach making you feel sick again.

"Shit, Joel's gonna fucking freak," you heard another male voice say from behind your head.

Against your better judgement, you forced your eyes open. Blinking rapidly, you locked eyes with the first person you saw. A man with dark, curly hair that went past his ears, with patchy facial hair and soft, brown eyes. Your eyes drifted down to his dirty, denim jacket, and then you saw his hands. Fear shot through you when you saw the drying blood, fist still clutching a gun, and as you tried to scramble away, you bumped into someone behind you, causing you to panic.

Why were they surrounding you? Who were these people? It wasn't fireworks, it was gunpowder.

"Get the fuck away from me!" you screeched, but the dark haired man inched forward, his free hand reaching out to you, telling you to calm down, it's okay, sugar, but you continued to crawl backwards, ignoring the pain throbbing behind your eyes. What did these people do to you?

"Whoa, it's alright," the other man said. A younger man, also darker hair, but shorter.

Your chest heaved as you gasped for air, panic seizing you from head to toe. Your eyes flicked around the forest, the huge tree trunks making it impossible to figure out where you were.

"W-where am I? Where's my mom?"

The man holding the gun frowned and exchanged concerned glances with the other man.

"She's gone," he said gently, as if it were obvious. A strangled noise got caught in the back of your throat when you looked at the man's gun again.

"What did you do to her?" you asked, voice wavering. The man's eyes dropped to the gun in his hand and he quickly holstered it.

"I didn't do anythin' to her, sugar," he said, and again looked at the younger man before continuing. "She died the first day."

"What?" you asked, lip trembling. What the fuck was going on?!

"First day of what?"

"You don't remember?" he asked, and you could see the worry in his face. His eyes wide and his hand a little shaky.

"No, I don't fucking remember! What the fuck are you trying to pull?" you exclaimed, your voice rising the angrier you got.

"Sugar, do you know who I am?" he asked, sneakily taking the handgun that laid abandoned by your side in the dirt and tucking it into the back of his pants.

"No," you spat, then winced and clutched the back of your head again. When you pulled your hand back, you saw fresh blood coating your fingers. Your heart began slamming in your chest and you were finding it difficult to bring in enough air to keep you level.

"Jesse, get a rag," the man ordered. Jesse jumped up and jogged over to a backpack discarded on the ground. Old, worn, faded, with splashes of blood.

Then you saw the bodies.

Well, you supposed they could be considered bodies, but they didn't look like people. Not anymore. Their skin was sagging and grey. Clothes, torn and dirty. Mangy hair ripped out in handfuls at the scalp. Their mouths were agape, revealing yellowed teeth and stinking of rot.

"What the fuck?" you whispered as your vision narrowed. You faintly realized Jesse was pressing a rag against the back of your head, trying to stop the bleeding and had you not been so scared and confused, you might have shoved him away.

"Tommy, what do we do?" Jesse asked, and you could hear the fear in his voice now. His hand shook against your shoulder as he tried to keep you still.

"We gotta get her back home, have Nick take a look at her," he said, and you looked back and forth between them, flabbergasted. Talking about you as if you weren't right there.

"I'm not going anywhere with you," you told them. You tried to stand up, but fell to your knees. Tommy knelt down next to you, his arm circling around your shoulders, but you shrugged him off.

"C'mon, sugar. We ain't gonna hurt you, you just hit your head and you need to see a doctor," Tommy said. "Jesse, grab me my first aid kit."

"I gotta go home," you mumbled, and forced yourself to stand again. You couldn't see straight. Everything around you was spinning even though you were fairly certain you were standing still. "I need to see my dad... my brother."

"Shit," you heard Jesse mutter under his breath as he hustled over with a small, leather bag.

"Okay, why don't we take you to a doctor first, then we can talk about your family, alright?" Tommy asked gently. "I'm just gonna patch you up til we get back," he added, reaching into the bag for some medical tape. You watched as Tommy instructed Jesse to hold the rag against your head while he ran the medical tape around, holding the cloth in place.

You didn't have much choice. As you looked around, you were becoming more and more aware you had absolutely no idea where you were or what was happening. You definitely weren't home. There weren't trees like this back home.

So, begrudgingly, you agreed to follow them. Tommy stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp, piercing noise that made you wince. You were confused until you heard the soft pattering of hooves approaching, and through the trees, three tacked up horses emerged. A pale yellow one slowed and stopped a few feet away from you, snorting loudly and stomping its foot. You watched as Tommy and Jesse grabbed their backpacks and mounted their horses. Then Tommy seemed to realize the problem and quickly slid back down to the ground.

"I'll give you a boost," he said, crouching next to the yellow horse and lacing his fingers together. Slowly, you walked forward, eyeing the horse wearily before gripping the saddle and stepping one foot into Tommy's hands. He hoisted you up as you tossed your leg over the side of the horse and you bent forward, momentarily burying your face in its mane while you tried to stop the world from spinning. Fuck, your head was going to explode.

You followed Tommy's horse while Jesse took up the rear, all of you maneuvering around the rotting corpses littering the ground.

"What is this?" you asked, utterly confused. "Did I faint when we found a bunch of dead bodies or something? We have to go to the police," you told them, panic rising once again.

"We will," Tommy said, and you took a deep breath. Okay, things were making sense. You hit your head. Maybe you fell off your horse and knocked yourself out. You don't remember meeting these men before, but they seemed to know you, and they didn't appear to be threatening. If they were, they wouldn't give you your own horse, right?

"How far away are we from your home?" you asked after about ten minutes.

"Not far. Maybe another half hour or so. You holdin' up okay?" Tommy asked, twisting around in his saddle to look at you, his eyes briefly glancing over your shoulder at Jesse.

"Yeah, I think so. My head really hurts, though," you said, blinking slowly. "Do you have a farm or a ranch or something?"

"A what?" Tommy asked, confused until he looked down at the horses. "Oh, right. No, but we do got a barn."

"Oh, okay," you said uncertainly. You looked around at the trees as your horse obediently followed Tommy's. It was so quiet. You must have been deep into the woods because you couldn't hear any road noise at all. Looking up, you didn't even see or hear any planes. You had never known quiet like this before. It was almost... peaceful.

You looked back over your shoulder, making eye contact with Jesse, who gave you a nervous smile.

"Is he your dad?" you asked, and Jesse snorted.

"No," he chuckled, then cleared his throat and wiped the smile off his face, becoming serious again. "No, Tommy's just my friend. Our friend," he added, and you slowly nodded before turning back around.

You loosely held the reins in your hands as you made your way through the forest, the only sounds coming from your horses and the birds singing in the branches above your heads. When you crossed a small stream, Tommy called over his shoulder not much further now.

At the end of the forest was a clearing. You could see it already. A huge gate and reinforced walls surrounding what you assumed was home to these men, but it looked like a fortress in the middle of nowhere. There were even guards with guns strolling along the top of the fences.

This didn't seem right.

"Stop," you told your horse, but of course it kept walking.

"Stop!" you shouted, and it pinned its ears back. You looked up at Tommy, who had now turned around in his saddle.

"How - I don't know what I'm doing, tell it to stop! I want to stop!" you told him as the panic rose from your chest and squeezed your throat.

"Pull on the reins," Tommy said, and you quickly tugged them, making the horse come to a sudden halt.

"Where are we? What is this?" you demanded, narrowing your eyes at him. By now you had made it just outside the gates, and the guards on top were looking at Tommy questioningly.

"This is Jackson," Tommy said calmly, then slid down from his horse to approach you. "This is where we live. We got a doctor here who can take a look at that head wound."

"Why don't you live in a normal house? A normal town? I don't understand," you said, and the tears began to well up in your eyes. You were so frustrated and everything was so confusing and all you wanted to do was go to bed and forget this ever happened.

"I'll explain everythin', I promise, but first we gotta get you to the doc, alright?" he asked as your tears began to fall. Tommy glanced up at the top of the fence and nodded. You watched as a handful of men began to crank open the gate, revealing the beginnings of a quaint -looking town.

"Can you get down? Go slow, I'll catch you if you fall," he said, and when you looked into his eyes, you could see affection there. You did as you were told. Swinging one leg over, you slowly and carefully lowered yourself to the ground, Tommy's hands reassuringly hovering above your shoulders until you were standing on your own two feet.

"Are we... together?" you asked him.

Tommy and Jesse both laughed heartily and then he quickly shook his head.

"No, sugar," he said, a smile still etched across his face. He looked over at the open gate and his smile slowly began to fade. "But we oughta get you to the doc right away."

You sat on the edge of an exam table, head tilted down, chin against your chest as the doctor Tommy introduced as Nick stitched up the laceration on your scalp. He had numbed the area pretty good with something from a very large needle that sent you spiraling into a frenzy until Nick and Tommy managed to calm you down and convinced you they were not in fact trying to drug you and sell you into sex trafficking, like you had accused them of trying to do.

Once the doctor started to work on your injury, Tommy excused himself, mumbling something about needing to talk to someone and that he would be back as soon as possible.

Nick said he had to cut away some of your hair, that you would have a small bald spot for a while, but the rest of your hair would be able to hide it effectively.

After he took care of the cut, he began to examine you further. He flashed a bright light into your eyes, making you wince and recoil. He asked you strange questions that you were confident you didn't answer correctly based on the expression on his face.

"Cordy- what?"

"Cordyceps," he repeated.

"No, I have no idea what that is. Is it a band?" you guessed, and he shook his head.

"Well, you certainly have a concussion, and I'm afraid you have some memory loss," he said, sitting down on the small stool across from you.

"How much is 'some'?"

"Uh, difficult to say, but ten years? Give or take?" he said, and you balked.

"Ten years?!"

He nodded.

"I'm afraid so. Can you tell me the last day you do remember?"

"Well," you began, relaxing your shoulders as you thought. "I remember it was fall, but it was still hot out. I had a long day at work - I'm a banker," you told Nick, and he nodded. "My feet were killing me, I had barely sat down all day. It was family dinner night at my parents' house. Me and my brother go over there every Friday. My dad made ribs out on the grill so he wouldn't heat up the house with the oven. My mom was wearing this new, green dress that I thought looked hideous but I lied and told her it was cute. And my brother was telling us about a girl he had met the weekend before."

Nick looked at you to continue, but when it became clear you were done, he sighed.

"That's the last day you remember?"

"Yeah," you said slowly, finally picking up on the concerned look he was giving you. "Was that really ten years ago?" you asked, softly this time. Nick pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose and nodded.

"Oh my god," you breathed, looking around the sparse, run down room. What happened in ten years to make the world look like this? You were about to ask when you heard shouting coming from the lobby of the infirmary.

Nick jumped up and opened the door, then turned back to you.

"I'll be right back," he said, then shut the door quickly behind him.

You sat on the edge of the bed, legs lightly swinging as you tried to piece together what you knew.

Ten years.

Ten whole years, just... gone.

What memories did you make in that time? Your mom is dead, but what about the rest of your family? Is there anybody in this town that you might actually remember? You looked down at your body. You thought you looked the same, maybe a little thinner, but otherwise the same. Did you ever get married? Have kids?

The shouting got louder and pulled you out of your reverie. It was a man's voice, and it was growing closer. He sounded angry. Livid, even.

You could now hear him opening up the other exam room doors and calling your name, ignoring the voices of Tommy and Nick urging him to stop, and a jolt of fear shot through you. Glancing around the room, you looked for something, anything that might protect you or reinforce the door, but it was too late.

The door swung open and you jumped off the table. If this man was going to hurt you, you wouldn't go down without a fight.

He paused in the doorway, his eyes raking up and down your body, assessing you silently while you did the same. He was tall. Broad shoulders strained underneath a black T-shirt. A blue flannel was clutched in his fist. You could see his muscles twitching under his tanned skin, and when your gaze finally met his, you felt something else other than fear. Something you couldn't quite identify. You knew this man, but you didn't know how.

His hair was dark and had loose curls, similar to Tommy's but shorter and a little lighter. The beard surrounding plush looking lips had a dusting of white at the corners of his jaw, but it was his eyes that drew your attention the most. A deep, beautiful brown that told a whole story in just one moment.

Nick and Tommy stood behind the strange man, looking back and forth between the two of you. Dragging your gaze off of him, you looked at Tommy, hoping he would explain.

Then the man said your name softly and your eyes flicked back to him.

"What?" you finally said with an edge to your voice, growing annoyed with how nobody felt compelled to say anything. They just kept looking at you, waiting for you to acknowledge him as if you'd known him your whole life.

"You remember Joel. Right, sugar?" Tommy asked, and your eyes drifted back to him. All three men stared at you, the room so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Slowly, you shook your head, and Joel's face fell.

"Is it permanent?" Joel asked, turning to Nick.

Nick paused, his mouth opening and closing as he considered his answer before clearing his throat.

"It's too soon to say-"

"The fuck d'you mean?!" Joel roared, grabbing Nick by his collar and shoving him up against the door. You stumbled backwards in surprise.

"Joel!" Tommy yelled, yanking on his shoulder, trying to loosen his grip on the poor doctor but Joel just shrugged him off.

"Fix her!" Joel yelled, redness creeping up his neck as he slammed Nick up against the door again.

"I-I can't just fix her! What do you think this is? Look around!" Nick stammered, his fingers clawing at the backs of Joel's hands.

You gasped and felt your knees give out from underneath you. Slowly, you sunk down to the floor, crippled in fear. You huddled against the side of the bed, your hands clamped over your mouth as you rocked back and forth, trying and failing to keep your tears at bay.

"Joel! Let 'em go, you're scarin' her!" Tommy yelled, and that finally seemed to snap Joel out of it.

His grip instantly loosened and his head swiveled towards you, his eyes softening when he saw you curled up on the floor. He rushed forward but you held out a hand to stop him.

"Don't come near me."

He froze and stared down at you, hurt written all over his face.

"I'm sorry, baby," he whispered, and you flinched. Baby?

"Maybe we should give you two a minute," Tommy said. Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

"N-no! What do you mean? No!" you cried out. You clawed at the table, pulling yourself up as the tears dried on your face. Joel took a few steps back and stood against the wall, crossing his arms and dropping his head, hiding his face.

"It's just Joel, he ain't gonna hurt you," Tommy said softly, but you still shook your head.

"Look what he just did!" you exclaimed, not even caring anymore if you were hurting his feelings. "How can you say that?"

"Because he loves you!" Tommy said, sounding exasperated.

The room fell silent, the only sound coming from you as you struggled to catch your breath. You glanced over at Joel but his chin was still tucked against his chest.

"Is that true?" you asked him. He nodded, but still didn't look up from the spot on the floor.

You sighed and rubbed your palms roughly over face.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay? There's just a lot happening right now and I'm very confused," you said, suddenly feeling guilty.

"I get it," Tommy said, looking back and forth between you and Joel, but Joel still appeared to be fixated on the floor. "Why don't you go home and rest. Can she, doc? Maybe some sleep will help?"

Tommy raised his eyebrows at Nick, trying to get him to agree and play along. Say yes. Don't piss off Joel.

"Yeah, perhaps it's a good idea if you went home. There's some evidence to suggest being around a familiar setting might trigger your memory to return," Nick said, and Joel finally looked up from the floor.

"What else can we do?" he asked as your fingers fidgeted at your sides. You really didn't like the idea of going home with this man. He clearly had a short temper and that set you on edge.

"Are there any personal effects that she holds some sentimental value to?"

Your gaze bounced back and forth between the men as they all talked about you like you were some science project.

"Yeah," Joel said with a nod.

"Alright. Start with that. Anything since you've known each other would work best, see if it jogs her memory. A necklace or a trinket-"

"Yeah, I get it," Joel said, finally chancing a look in your direction. You quickly dropped your gaze from him and looked back at Tommy.

"Can I talk to you?" you asked Tommy, who looked at Joel. Joel didn't say anything, he just stared right back at Tommy, his jaw clenched and his shoulders rising and falling slowly, as if he were trying very hard to control his breathing. You looked back and forth between them, waiting for the silent standoff to end.

"I'll be outside," Joel finally muttered, then stalked out of the exam room with Nick in his wake, leaving just you and Tommy.

"I don't want to go home with him."

Tommy sighed and sat down, resting his elbows on his knees as he rubbed his eyes.

"It's your home, too," he said.

"He scares me," you replied, crossing your arms. "He's a loose cannon. I-I don't feel like I know anyone here and everyone seems to know me. Do you know how that feels? Do you know how scary that is?"

Tommy dropped his hands and looked up at you.

"No, I don't. And I'm sorry, but I promise you nothin' bad's gonna happen. Joel's always had a short fuse but he would never, ever lay a hand on you. He's been head over heels since the moment he met you, and you love him back, sugar."

You looked around the room, needing a break from eye contact for just a minute while you gathered your thoughts.

"How long have I known him?" you asked.

"Five years."

You nodded and chewed on your lower lip.

"And how long have you known him?"

"All my life."

Your eyes darted over to his in surprise and he gave you a small smile.

"He's my older brother," Tommy explained, leaning back in his chair.

"Oh," was all you said, suddenly feeling like shit for saying such things about his family.

"Listen. Why don't you give it a chance, hm? One day. See how it goes, and if you're still uncomfortable, we'll figure somethin' else out," Tommy offered. You considered it for a moment before reluctantly nodding your head. Aside from just walking out of Jackson, you didn't see much of a choice.

To say the walk to Joel's house was awkward would be putting it mildly.

You weren't sure if he overheard your conversation with Tommy, or maybe he just could sense how you felt about going home with him, but ever since you forced yourself to leave the exam room to find him waiting for you in the lobby, he had been very quiet.

His feelings were hurt, that much was obvious, but what could you do? It wasn't like you set out to intentionally hurt him. You had no idea who he was at the time.

You still weren't sure who he was.

You tried to subtly admire his profile as you walked side by side. He had a strong jaw, a sharp nose and a full head of hair, although you could tell he was older than you. By how much, you weren't sure.

You tried to see underneath the gruff exterior, wondering what on earth made you fall in love with him, but it was so hard to see past your first impression.

Well, second first impression.

Then he turned his head to look down at you. Your eyes met and you thought you felt a small flutter in your chest, but you couldn't tell if it was nerves or fear or something else but his eyes were absolutely beautiful. There was something so sincere about them and you found it oddly funny that they seemed to betray the rest of his hardened expression.

"Anythin' lookin' familiar?" he asked you. You blinked and looked around.

The street he was leading you down was filled with people. Children laughing and playing, adults chatting and smiling. If it wasn't for the setting being so strange, it would feel normal. You squinted at some of the faces as you walked by, hoping you would recognize somebody, but you didn't.

"No," you said with a shake of your head, and you thought you saw his shoulders slump next to you but you didn't want to get caught staring at him again, so you focused on looking straight ahead.

The two of you remained silent the rest of the walk, although you could feel the energy radiating off him and for the first time, you began to realize this must be just as hard for him as it was for you.

You were examining the huge watch towers that surrounded the town and wondering what on earth would require such firepower when you realized Joel was no longer at your side. You swiveled your head around, suddenly lost in a sea of people that were smiling at you as they strolled on by but you didn't see a single recognizable face. You felt the panic begin to build again until you heard your name and a gentle hand on your elbow. You looked up and actually felt relief when you saw Joel.

"Sorry, thought you were still with me," he said, then tilted his head towards a side street he must have began to walk down without you.

"We live down here," he added. You heard someone call out both your names as you walked down the street. Joel waved to an older gentleman on his porch and after a brief delay, you waved as well.

"This is so weird," you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around.

"Yeah, I reckon it is."

Joel stopped short in front of a small, two-story house with a large front porch. You looked up at it, taking in every detail. The shutters, the rocking chairs, the small garden out front surrounded by a white picket fence, hoping something would click but you still felt nothing.

"This is your house?" you asked him. He watched you carefully as you continued to look around, wishing he would see something in your eye that would give him a shred of hope.

"Our house, yeah," he corrected you. You glanced up at him and quickly looked away, feeling too guilty when you saw the look on his face.

"Sorry," you whispered.

"Don't be sorry," he told you, but he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly and glanced around. "D'you wanna look inside?"

You nodded and followed him past the gate and up the little stone path that led to his - your - porch steps. A flash of yellow in the garden caught your eye and for the first time, a small smile played upon your lips.

"Oh, I love black-eyed susans," you said dreamily, your hand instinctually reaching out to touch the delicate petals.

"Yeah, I know. You told me your mom planted 'em every year," he said, stopping at the top of the steps to look down at you.

"That's right," you said with a smile. "Although it drove her crazy because-"

"The bunnies kept destroyin' 'em," he finished for you.

You stared into each other's eyes for a moment: him, waiting for you to remember, and you, wondering how you could forget.

"Yeah," you finally said, then dropped your gaze and cleared your throat, giving the flowers one last look before ascending the stairs to the front door.

Joel unlocked the door, pushing it open all the way and stepping aside so you could go in first. You peered inside for a moment before taking a step forward.

The first thing you noticed was it smelled faintly like firewood and coffee. The kitchen was to your left, living room to your right, and a staircase was in front of you next to a small hallway that appeared to lead to a back door of the house.

Joel stepped inside behind you and shut the door quietly, allowing you to take your time and process everything at your own speed. He desperately wanted to drag you around the house and show you things you should remember, but he refrained. Instead, his eyes followed where yours went. When you looked at the kitchen table, he thought remember when we had breakfast there this morning? When you looked at the fireplace, he thought remember on our anniversary when we couldn't make it up the stairs quickly enough so we made love in front of the fire? When you noticed the board games, boxes all frayed and worn, sitting on a bookshelf next to the couch, he thought remember when you beat Ellie in Scrabble and she flipped the board over?

But of course, you didn't remember any of those things.

You looked around blankly, and he could tell you were trying to remember but not a single shred of recognition flickered across your face. Your eyes landed on the kitchen counter and you took a step forward.

"We had coffee together today, didn't we?"

Joel's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest.

"Yeah, you remember that?" he asked, quickly joining you at your side. You looked up at him and he could immediately tell what your answer would be.

"No, I'm sorry, it's just-" you pointed to the two mugs still sitting together on the counter and he nodded solemnly.

"Oh, right," he said, then walked over to pick them up and rinse them off in the sink. He turned around and leaned against the counter, crossing his arms as he watched you slowly navigate the kitchen. Opening and closing drawers and cupboards, picking up a recipe book and flipping through it, then looking at the paintings on the walls.

"Did you or I draw this?" you asked, stepping towards a portrait that was clearly of him.

"Neither. Ellie did it," he told you, and you looked at him curiously.

"Ellie?"

He nodded and just as he was about to open his mouth to explain, the front door whipped open, startling you.

"Is it true?" a young girl with brown hair pulled back into a ponytail asked as she barged into the kitchen. When her eyes landed on you, she dropped her book bag and stepped forward, peering at you as if you were under a microscope.

"Ellie-" Joel began, pushing off the counter, but she cut him off.

"People are saying you lost your memory or something, is that true?" she asked again, and you nodded slowly.

"Holy shit!" she sputtered, and Joel repeated her name again, but harsher this time.

"Sorry," she mumbled, then pulled out a stool that was tucked under the kitchen island and plopped herself down. "Are you, like, okay? How's your head?"

"Uh, better now. The doctor gave me some medicine and it finally stopped hurting so much, but I got a pretty bad cut," you reached back and touched the bald spot with your fingertips. "He had to stitch it up."

"Can I see?" she asked, and you couldn't help but laugh a little, completely missing the way Joel perked up when he heard it.

"Sure," you said, turning around and lifting up your hair. "Can you see it?"

"Yeah, fucking gross, dude," she said with a shudder. You dropped your hair and turned back around.

"Is she your daughter?" you asked Joel, and Ellie burst out laughing.

"No way," she said, and he just rolled his eyes.

"I don't understand," you said with a frown. "Where are your parents?"

"They're dead," she told you so casually it almost gave you whiplash.

"Oh, my god! I'm so sorry," you said, feeling terrible, but she just gave you a look like you were crazy. Maybe you were.

"It's cool," she said, looking back and forth between you and Joel. "So she really doesn't remember anything?" Ellie asked him.

"Only stuff from... before," he said, narrowing his eyes at Ellie as if trying to silently communicate with her.

"Oh," she said, nodding slowly as if she understood. "Shit."

"Before what?" you pressed, but they both ignored your question.

"Why don't you give her some time to settle in," Joel told Ellie. "Meet us later for dinner at the Bison."

"Yeah, okay," Ellie said, sliding off the stool and picking up her abandoned backpack.

"You don't live here?" you asked her.

"Sorta. I live in the garage, see?" she said, pointing out the window to a building out back with a large window in the front and a small light next to the door.

"In the garage?" you repeated, appalled, but she just laughed.

"It used to be a garage. Joel helped me fix it up and it's more like a guest house now. Right, Joel?"

"Yeah," he said, walking deeper into the kitchen so he could look through the window with you. "You helped her paint it," he said quietly.

"I did?" you asked, and they both nodded.

It looked like they were both waiting for you to say something further, waiting for you to maybe recall the color or the weather that day, but nothing was ringing a bell. You looked at them hopelessly and Joel averted his gaze.

"Go on, Ellie. I'm sure you got schoolwork," he said, and she rolled her eyes as she turned and headed towards the door.

You watched her walk through the backyard and unlock the garage, catching a brief glimpse of the inside before she shut it softly behind her.

"You wanna go lay down for a bit?" Joel asked after he noticed you yawn, and you nodded. You followed him up the creaky staircase, your eyes drifting over everything you could find, hoping something would jump out at you along the way. When he got to the top of the stairs, he stopped suddenly between two bedroom doors and you gave him a confused look.

"What's wrong?" you asked, the look on his face beginning to worry you.

"Nothin', I just realized..." he trailed off and took a deep breath, still staring at the two doors. "We share a room and I just realized tonight'll be the first time in years we sleep apart."

You looked away, feeling uncomfortable. You could see the anguish all over his face. His jaw ticked to the side and he was blinking faster than usual and the guilt was burning a hole in your stomach.

"I'll stay in the spare room," you said, breaking the tension. "Can you just show me where I keep my stuff and I'll-"

"No," Joel said, shaking his head. "I'll go in the spare room. You stay in our room. Maybe it'll help... it should be more familiar to you in there."

You decided not to argue with him. He finally stepped towards the door on the right and pushed it open, leading you into a master suite with a queen sized bed in the middle of the room. There was a quilt on top that appeared to be handmade in various shades of greys and purples. You ran your hand over the material thoughtfully while Joel opened a few dresser drawers and pulled out some spare clothes for himself.

"This is pretty," you said, and he turned around to look at the quilt.

"Becky a few doors down makes 'em," he said, turning back to the dresser. "You really wanted purple and I fought you on it, but you always win," he said with a chuckle. You smiled to yourself as you continued to look around the room while Joel collected a few more belongings. You noticed a pair of reading glasses on top of an old western book on one end table. The other end table had a few loose hair ties, a homemade lip balm, and a black, leather bound book with a pen on top. Without even thinking, you walked forward and picked it up, flipping through the pages one by one. It appeared to be a journal, and it looked like it was your handwriting.

Joel stepped out of the bathroom attached to your room and saw you holding the book. He swallowed and watched your face closely, looking for any sign that what you were reading made sense.

"I was gonna show you that tomorrow. Thought it would be too much today," he said after a few minutes.

"I kept a journal?"

"Yeah. You don't write it in often, but sometimes if somethin' special happened, or you just felt the urge, you would write it down," he said, putting his toiletries next to his clothes on the bed.

You closed the book and placed it back on the table, staring at the old cover, lost in thought. You had a million questions and you had to start somewhere.

"Joel... what happened?" you asked him. He frowned, not following at first until you clarified. "In the world, I mean. What happened? Because all of this," you waved your hands around the room and gestured out through the window. "This doesn't seem right. Did I join a cult or something?"

Joel shook his head and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I don't wanna overwhelm you," he began. You sat down as well, making sure to put plenty of distance between you.

"I'm already overwhelmed. Just please... tell me what's going on."

He sighed and looked at the clock on the wall.

"The world ended," he said bluntly, glancing in your direction. You stiffened but you waited for him to elaborate. "It was quick. Happened on a Friday, everythin' was gone by Monday. There's this fungus called cordyceps-"

"Nick asked me about that," you said, and he nodded.

"Well, best guess is the fungus mutated and got into the food supply. It, uh, it infects the brain. It grows and takes over, but it doesn't kill you. Well, not technically." He could see the confusion on your face. He wasn't explaining this right. "The fungus wants to spread, you see? That's it's basic function. If it killed the host, it wouldn't be able to spread. So, the host remains alive, but they're no longer... them."

"And the hosts are... people?" you guessed, and Joel nodded.

"Yeah. Spread like wildfire. One person would get bit-"

"Bit?" you repeated, eyes wide.

"Yeah, it's how the fungus spreads. Through blood. One person would get bit and they turn within hours."

"And there's no cure?"

Joel paused and took a deep breath, his gaze darting nervously around the room.

"No, there's no cure," he finally said.

You sat back on the bed and thought about what Joel just told you. Suddenly, things were starting to make sense. She died the first day.

"And my family?" you asked softly, closing your eyes as you waited for the answer. Joel looked at you, his heart breaking that he had to deliver the news.

"They didn't make it," he said, and one tear slowly escaped and slid down your cheek. "It was a miracle you even made it. That any of us made it," he added, hoping to take the sting out of it.

"A miracle?" you scoffed, opening your eyes now. "How do you figure, Joel? What's the fucking point in living like this?" you asked him angrily, standing up from the bed and pacing around the room.

"Don't say that," he said sadly, rising to his feet. "Believe me, I thought the same thing," he said, unconsciously scratching at the scar on his cheek. "But it turns out there's plenty to live for. It ain't so bad."

"Oh, yeah? Like what?" you challenged, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "What is there to live for? Because I have to be honest, I'm not seeing it."

Joel swallowed as he watched you angrily move around the room.

"Love," he said quietly, and you stopped. You stood with your back to him, your shoulders rising and falling as anger and frustration coursed through you.

Finally, you turned to look at him, tears silently falling.

"But everyone I loved is dead," you sobbed, burying your face in your hands. "My family is dead! Everyone I know is gone! What do I have left?" You dropped your hands and looked at him, tears steadily falling as you waited, completely forgetting the obvious answer.

"You have me," he said, his voice cracking. "And I know that don't mean much now, but I promise you, it will."

Your head fell forward, chin tucking into your chest with your hands on your hips.

"I'm so sorry," you whispered, still looking down. "That was so rude, I didn't mean to say it like that."

"This is hard for me, too," he said, taking a few steps towards you, then stopped. He wanted to pull you into his arms and hold you close, tell you everything was going to be okay, but he had to remind himself that he was essentially a stranger to you.

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Stop apologizin' for somethin' that ain't your fault," he told you sternly. You dragged your eyes back up to him, your shoulders slumped forward, eyes puffy and red.

"What if my memory never comes back?" you whispered. It was a question Joel didn't want to ask out loud but knew eventually it would be brought up. He took a deep breath and looked you square in the eye.

"Then I'll have to make you fall in love with me all over again," he said with a small shrug, and you let out a huff of laughter at that.

"You sound pretty confident," you replied.

"I did it once before, I can do it again," he told you, his gaze never wavering. "I'll never stop tryin'. What we have together, it's... it's rare. And it might sound stupid, but we're meant to be together. If you let me, I'll prove it to you."

Something in his eye made you feel calmer the longer you looked at him. He wasn't smiling. He wasn't joking. He meant every word. You tore your gaze away from him and looked around the room again. The room you shared with him. The room where you held each other, kissed each other, made love together. Years of memories etched into the floorboards. Countless secrets whispered into the pillows. Laughter and tears echoed against the walls. Your eyes found him again just to realize he never looked away. He stood tall and firm in the middle of the room, patiently waiting for you. And you had to assume if he felt this strongly about what you had, then it must be worth fighting for.

"Okay."

Follow @punkshort-notifs for fic updates ❤️

#joel miller #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #joel the last of us #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller fanfic #protective joel #joel miller x you #joel tlou #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #Pedro pascal #tlou #tlou hbo #the last of us hbo #the last of us fanfiction #ikwya fic

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yzzyhee · 5 months ago

Text

flamin’ hot lemon — lhs

bf!heeseung x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written

wc: 3.8k~

synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…

now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun

a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻

ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.

you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.

“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.

your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.

the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.

you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.

“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”

you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.

“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.

heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.

“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.

right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.

you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.

“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”

his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.

and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.

“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.

you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.

heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.

then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.

“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.

humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”

by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.

the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.

heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.

you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.

when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”

heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.

jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.

heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”

jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.

“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”

you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”

jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.

it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.

you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.

sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”

heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”

the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.

heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.

“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.

heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.

before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.

your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.

"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"

your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.

heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."

you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”

his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."

your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.

your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.

your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.

"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"

you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.

his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."

heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.

"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.

heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth

his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.

you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.

"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.

you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.

you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.

for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.

but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.

heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"

you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.

heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”

and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.

your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.

suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.

"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.

his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.

“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.

you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”

a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.

heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”

“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.

behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.

as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.

after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.

#— 💭 mars ; written work #enhypen smut #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung smut #lee heeseung imagines #heeseung smut #heeseung imagines #heeseung scenarios #heeseung x reader #heeseung hard hours #heeseung hard thoughts

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harringtons-cupid · 6 months ago

Note

inspo?

the one snd only mr steve harrington charming the pants off your parents at dinner only to take you home and treat you right

Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Warnings: 18+

SMUT!! - cunnilingus, tongue fucking, clit spanking. Cum eating, dirty talk. Cum denial. Spolit orgasm, creampie. Scratching. Lip biting, hair pulling. Slight punishment.

Fluff- Meeting parents, carrying you. Kissing. Affectionate name-calling.

Steve had briefly met your parents before, it was awkward and sudden. He was dressing quickly on the landing of your house when they arrived home too soon.

This was different, it was planned and sophisticated. He was dressed smartly in a black denim jacket, smart trousers and tidy hair.

You thought he looked delicious when you answered the door, he kissed you lightly. Not wanting to ruin your freshly applied makeup.

He was polite and shy. Steve Harrington was never shy, he was cheeky and loud but as your parents greeted him in the living room. He went silent, nodding to your dad who was sat in his favourite armchair.

The football was on, he never turned it off. Not even to meet your boyfriend, he glanced at Steve who stood awkwardly in the room.

Your mum called you into the kitchen, she looked pretty with her apron fastened tightly behind her back as she dashed around the room to organise the food.

''He's a cutie. Is this the same boy we met on the landing that one time?'' she teased as the oven sprung open with hot air.

''Mum! Please'' you blushed, peering into the living room hoping that Steve didn't hear her comment.

Your mum shrugged and proceeded to dish out the food onto four individual plates, the food smelt incredible. Your mum could never disappoint with her cooking but you are anxious for Steve to try it.

He sat down next to you, his arm hung slightly off the table as he politely smiled back and forth at your parents.

Your dad had yet to speak, and your hands curled around the edge of the seat. He must have known that you had a boyfriend, it's not like you were new to this. But it being Steve Harrington was a different story.

The dinner progressed slowly, Steve ummed and arred after every mouthful. The cocky and confident Steve you knew was hiding between meat and vegetables. It was amusing to watch.

''So Stephen'' your dad's voice was loud and clear.

''Dad, it's Steve'' you smiled awkwardly at him. Moving closer to Steve.

''Sorry, Steve. I heard that you are applying for college. What do plan on studying there?'' he stared directly at Steve.

College what was you and Steve spoke about most, it was the impending future of you both. You didn't want to lose him, you loved him. He was everything to you but the question was always at the back of your mind. Where was he going and where would he study.

''Me and your daughter planned to study at the same college but I was offered a sports scholarship'' Steve grinned, taking your hand.

''A scholarship, that is incredible.'' your father grinned.

Like Steve, your father was also a sporting man. Progressed into a big shot star of Hawkins in the 60s before settling down to have yourself and brother.

After the shaky start to the dinner, it moved nicely and your parents began to lather him with appreciation and love. Your father constantly asking about Steve's future plans and your mum asking about his family and what food he enjoys. Clearly wanting more than one dinner with him.

They formally said goodbye to Steve in the doorway, your father firmly shaking his hand and your mum hugging the pair of you softly kissing your cheeks. Waving at the door as you proceeded to 'drive' Steve home.

It was silent when you pulled away from the drive, anxiously waiting on Steve's approval and opinions.

His hand was on your knee moving further and further up your leg until it sat on the edge of your pink lace panties.

You didn't realise how much you were dying to be touched by him, biting your lip as he drove one handed.

There was something so attractive about him right now, his hair was combed into a soft style. His shirt was unbuttoned slightly to expose his chest hair, you stifled a moan.

Both you and Steve spent more time at his empty house than at your own, with more freedom to be each other. You only felt it was right, now Steve had met your parents. Your mind was racing with the idea of staying at yours rather than his.

He pulled up onto his driveway, switching the car off and turning to you. His finger was slipping underneath your panties, pulling you closer to him.

Leaning forward, he began to kiss you and his hand reached your clit. It was throbbing at his touch, he groaned onto your lips.

Biting your lip hard in lust, your hands were tugging on his hair.

''God baby, you are so hot'' he kissed you hard, pushing his body against yours.

You could feel his cock growing harder and harder against his jeans, his pants were getting raspier by the second.

Suddenly removing yourself off him, you saw the wild glint in his eye as he studied you.

You opened the door and stood outside, waiting for him to join you. In his stunned state, he hurried to your side. Desperate to be near you, to touch you.

There was an intense greed in him, it was if meeting your parents made him lust after you even more.

Maybe he did love you back?

He bent down and took ahold of your body between his arms, tightly grabbing you under your knees and neck. You laughed hard as he carried you over the threshold, you wobblily unlocked the front door.

Placing you down on the floor, there were a few seconds before you pinned up against the wall and your mouths were pressed together. His hand was circling your clit, panting heavily against him as he edged you closer and closer to your orgasm.

You were so weak for him, any touch would cause you to cum. It made you blush but he loved it.

His hand moved from swirling to spanking your clit which turned you on even more. Dripping down your legs as he kept going until your body jerked in pleasure.

You came hard against his hand, cheeks flushed red. He dropped to his knees, ripping your panties to your ankles. He sighed dreamily as he dived between your legs, licking every inch of your cum up.

Making your legs shake even more, your clit was senstive as he continued to lick you. Sliding his tongue inside of your opening, you gasped heavily. Your head hitting the wall as you gripped onto him for support.

He continued to fuck you like this until you trembled with sensation,

''Stevie--'' you whined, tugging strands of his hair.

You needed his cock inside you, the closest you could ever get to him. But he kept his position just a little longer until your whines became more and more pathetic.

He removed himself from your soaking wet pussy, with a smirk. He brought his lips to yours, forcing you to taste yourself on him.

Kissing you until you couldn't hold it any longer, pulling at his belt in eagerness.

''I love you like this, so desperate for my cock inside you'' he grinned as he let you undo his jeans.

Pushing them in a despairing attempt until they were pooling at his ankles, you didn't care where he took you. You just needed him.

His thumb began to rub your clit as he slowly slid inside you, teasing you even more. Your hips grinding against his half shaft, whimpering loudly.

He groaned when his cock slid all the way inside you, your nails digging intoo his back. He held you up, wrapping your legs tightly around his waist. As deeper as he could inside you.

Thrusting you against the wall, you didn't care. You couldn't feel the pain of the wall, all you could feel was his cock.

His lips fumbled against yours, moving you away from the wall slightly. Giving you just enough room to bounce on his cock, your moans were louder. You worried slightly if you were deafening him, he showed no signs.

Both of you gripped onto each other as if for dear life, his pounding into you harder and harder. Making you quiver, you felt close to your second orgasm.

''Stevie--Please can I cum?'' you whined patheically.

You never asked to cum before, but today you wanted to ask for his permission.

He loved that, he thrusted once more before answering you. Which he knew was edging you closer and closer.

''Not yet baby, just hold on a little longer'' he panted, with a smirk on his face.

Burying his face into your neck, his cock was throbbing inside of you. It was making you wetter and wetter, you needed to cum so badly.

Not sure how long you could last, you nodded.

He kept his speed and pressure until cried loudly, you couldn't hold it.

Cumming hard all over his cock, you felt a sensation you had never felt before. As if a ton of liquid had escaped you, it splashed as he thrust inside you.

Your body pusalting as you continued to cum, panting hard agaist his body.

''Such a naughty baby'' he groaned into your ear.

''I'm sorry, I couldn't help it. Your cock feels so so good'' you whined.

Overcoming the high of your orgasm, you allowed him to continue as your clit twitched.

''Just for that, your punishment is to take all my cum into your wet pussy'' he whimpered at his own words.

Unable to say another word, you scratched his back as you felt him edge closer to his own orgasm.

He rarely came inside you, it was hot and punsihing enough. Finding enough courage, you decided to tease himfurther.

''You going to pound your cum into me? Make me so full'' you panted as your hands slid down his back.

He didn't reply, you could tell that your words were making him weaker by the second.

''Please, I need your cum in me. For the first time'' you moaned, stumbling on a few words.

As you opened your mouth to say a few more taunts, his cock twitched inside you.

Spurling out hot cum inside you, he didn't stop thrusting even though his body twitched. Determined to fuck it into you, he continued until he couldn't more anymore.

He stayed inside for a second, wiping the hair out of your face and kissing you.

''My beautiful girl'' he sighed, catching his breath.

You both slide down the wall, his limp cock slipping out of you. As you sat there naked on the floor, he took you into his arms and held you.

#joe keery #steve harrington #steve x reader #steve x female reader #steve x fem!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x female reader smut #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington request #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x f!reader #steve harrington smut

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wynnyfryd · 1 year ago

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Trailer Park Steve AU

part 1

“Are you lost?” Munson frowns, propping his shoulder against the door frame and crossing his arms over his chest. His rings glint against his jacket sleeve; he’s got new tattoos on his fingers.

Steve’s head fills with static fuzz for a second, and he stares like a mouth-breathing idiot before helpfully answering: “Um.”

“…Right. Well, this has been weird as shit, man, but, uh— pharmacy’s closed until my uncle leaves at sundown, so…” He lifts his hand to make a shooing motion, then pauses, assessing Steve with narrowed eyes. “What are you all dressed up like a good little school boy for, anyway? Didn’t you graduate last year?”

Oh, okay. Wow. (Like, yeah, he does kinda look like some goody two-shoes freshman with Robin’s forgotten backpack hiked up way too high under his armpits, but also fuck you, dude.) Steve squares his shoulders, plasters a falsely polite smile on his face and cocks his head to the side, all innocent, like he doesn’t know, like he’s just asking, man. “Sure did. Weren’t you supposed to do that, too?”

Munson glares at him like he’s imagining doing to him what Misty did to the rat. “I really don’t want to fight this early in the morning, man.”

“I’d love to see you try,” Steve snorts. “What, Munson? You gonna beat my ass? Think you can take me? Go ahead.”

He doesn’t know why he’s egging on a fight, but he’s suddenly itching for one. Feels the urge bubbling up beneath the surface. Hot under the collar. Probably this is the part where Tommy would hold him back and tell him it isn’t worth it, man, come on, but Tommy’s not around anymore.

A lot of people aren’t around anymore.

Nobody fights for fallen kings.

So Steve bows up with a sneer and a huff, and Munson does the same, and that’s… concerning. It gets a hell of a lot more concerning when he flashes a menacing grin and claps a hand to Steve’s shoulder; gets right up in his face, nose to nose, breath sharp with spearmint to cover the scent of weed.

From Wayne’s point of view they might almost look like friends.

Steve barely hears the thwck slice past his bad ear before he feels the cold press of a blade against his throat. Pocket knife, unpocketed. Munson’s smile widens, and Steve swallows hard, feels his pulse jump against the blade, the blood rushing to his cheeks. It shouldn’t be hot. (And it isn’t, because it shouldn’t be.)

“You want to try that again?”

Munson’s voice is deadly soft, a raspy whisper that makes Steve’s hair stand on end. His eyes are huge and dark. Intense. Kind of endless.

Kind of like Nancy’s when she’s staring down a loaded gun.

Steve blinks and licks the sweat off his upper lip, fingers trembling against frayed denim where he’s got his hands raised in surrender. “We’re c-cool, man. We’re cool. My mistake.”

Munson backs off with a pleased look on his face, snaps the knife shut and tucks it back into his pocket. Soft squeak of worn leather; casual shrug. “Cool. Glad we understand each other.”

Then he scruffs Steve under the chin — patronizing and quick, this humiliating little bullshit maneuver like ‘chin up, Steve-o’ before he hops down the steps and swings himself up into his van. The tires screech in the loose gravel, and Steve just stands there and stares. Gobsmacked. Pissed off.

A little stiff in his jeans.

When he looks down there’s a black cat brushing itself against his sneakers. “Misty?” he asks.

“M’row,” says the cat.

There’s a dead bird at her feet.

—

part 3

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #my writing #my fic #trailer park steve au

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nolita-fairytale · 2 years ago

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j is for james beard... and for jealousy | carmen 'carmy' berzatto x fem!reader

pairing: jealous boyfriend!carmy x female!reader

word count: 7.4k

summary: after sydney takes home a big win at the james beard awards, you and your boyfriend carmy run into an old rival for a fiery, chaotic, and surprisingly sexy night. companion piece to 'make my heart surrender' but can be read as a standalone oneshot.

warnings: 18+ chapter, minors dni: lots of swearing, p*rn with a plot, smut, p in v unprotected sex (reader is using hormonal birth control in monogamous relationship), praise kink, rough jealousy sex

a/n: how dare I drag poor james beard into this hetero nonsense?! anywayssss surprise i'm back because i keep having ideas for these two. maybe one day i'll just write a carmy x reader piece that doesn't include this character but for now... please enjoy this literal porn with a plot. also: let's all agree that toxic jealousy is a red flag in relationships, however, i wanted to work with a scenario where carmy would perhaps be more sexually assertive.

“I look ridiculous,” Carmy had grumbled earlier that day, at his reflection in the mirror.

He had never felt like himself while wearing a suit. Sure, he would spend time, effort, and money into finding the perfect vintage denim jacket, but a suit? He’d much rather be behind the scenes, in his chef whites, instead of this.

“You look…” you’d countered him, emphasizing the word ‘look’. “...hot, Carmen.”

He’d given you somewhat of a half smile in response – flattered by your comment, and also unconvinced you hadn’t just said in an attempt to get him out of the house.

Or out of obligation.

Because he’s your boyfriend. Because you’ll say anything to get him out for Syd’s big night. Because you love him.

Carmy had never gotten used to the whole celebrity aspect of the food world – especially his own. These award ceremonies were always an uncomfortable reminder that he never quite felt like he fit in.

“Do you think Syd would kill me if-?” Carmy had asked, shifting uncomfortably.

“Baby, Sydney is counting on us… and she and I will both kick your ass if you don’t get in the car,” you’d cut him off, because there was no way in hell he was getting out of this. With a scowl on his face, you’d dragged him down the stairs and into your Uber.

And that’s how he ended up here, at the James Beard award ceremony on a Sunday night, as you all wait anxiously for the announcement. While the restaurant hadn’t been open long enough to be nominated and was actively in a state of ‘working out the kinks,’ Carmy’s celebrity in the food world had brought in a lot of press. Ever since Sydney and Carmy had become partners in the reopen, he had been more than happy to let her take center stage. When the nominations were announced, and Sydney was on the list, he was ecstatic for her. Truthfully, it was a relief that she seemed to do much better with all the stuff he wasn’t crazy about: press, interviews, the spotlight.

“Wake me up when this snoozefest is over,” Richie mumbles trying his best to pretend he’s not having a good time. You snort, shooting Richie a look, because you know it’s one of the most exciting nights he’s had in a while.

Besides Carmy, who wouldn’t want to get all dressed up to go to a fancy party and celebrate Sydney?

You’ve somehow managed to corral the core staff of The Bear here this evening. The entire restaurant had been abuzz when the nominations were announced, and talks of who would get stuck at the restaurant the night of the award ceremony had already begun. It was an easy decision to close the restaurant for that night, so that everyone who wanted to could attend.

Your life here is better than you ever imagined it could be. Working your ass off in a kitchen that you love has been invigorating. It’s helping you fall in love with the process all over again. You suspect that your time in fine dining had, perhaps, run its course even before you quit your last job. Back then, here is what you’d longed for on the days you felt your most lost. You love being a teacher; you love mentoring Marcus. He’s got a desire to learn that never quits, and it inspires you day in and day out. But most importantly, you’re head over heels in love. You’re so deeply in love with Carmy that sometimes, you wonder what took the two of you so long to pull the trigger.

Tonight is no different. You’re surrounded by people you adore more than anything – people you’ve been in the trenches with during a dinner service from hell, people you’ve laughed your ass off with after a round of drinks outside of the restaurant – and you’re all here to celebrate someone who’s become a close friend of yours. It’s just another reminder – another sign from the universe – that you made the right decision.

And you’re sure Sydney is going to win.

You’re not sure how you know.

You can just feel it.

Sydney sits between Carmy and Marcus, and you’re seated in between Carmy and Richie. You notice Carmy’s leg is bouncing up and down impatiently as he anticipates the next category of awards. Even though you know these big social events put Carmy on edge, you know he’s really just nervous for her.

“And the winner… for the James Beard Rising Star award of 2023…” the announcer, esteemed chef Mashama Bailey begins, grabbing the attention of the entire room.

Your heart is pounding in your chest, and Carmy continues to fidget nervously. You reach across Carmy’s lap, grabbing Sydney’s hand and giving it a squeeze of reassurance. Sydney holds on to you, and while you’re sure she might cut off your circulation from squeezing so tightly, you don’t mind. You’re all on the edges of your seat.

“Sydney Adamu of The Bear!”

You and Carmy are cheering as loudly as you can, while Richie jumps to his feet letting out a loud ‘whoop.’ A chorus of ‘that’s right,’ ‘she won!’ and ‘c’mon syd’ echoes through Tina, Gary, and Ebra and Manny, while Angel is already on his feet taking a video of the crowd. Everyone is cheering so boisterously you’re not sure it’ll ever stop.

“You won, Syd!” you yell over the loud claps and cheers, giving her hand one more squeeze. She rises, letting go of your hand, you and Carmy both following to give her some space to walk through the aisle.

“Let’s go, Syd! That’s right. That’s right,” Marcus calls out loudly, jumping to his feet with Richie and earning a few looks from the people sitting to the right and left.

“Congratulations, chef,” Carmy whispers, as she passes him by. You watch as Marcus ushers her over to the aisle so that she can go up to the stage while Angel films the whole thing on his iPhone. Carmy has the proudest look on his face, the tip of his nose the lightest blush pink, and you’re beaming as you watch your friend make her way towards the stage of the opera house.

“Remember when this was you?” you whisper to Carmy, catching his attention.

“Tonight everything changes for her,” Carmy replies, grinning from ear to ear.

“For the both of you,” you add. “For all of us.”

The night he won the rising star award put him on the map. While you hadn’t known Carmy at the time, you’d heard about him in those early days of both of your careers. Carmy had risen so quickly through the ranks that by the time you met him, he was only a few weeks away from his promotion to CDC at the old restaurant. Not only did this put Sydney on the map, but it was better press for The Bear than anyone could ask for.

“Congratulations, baby,” you say, kissing him on the cheek. He just shoots you a look, the pride evident in his eyes, before wrapping his arm around you and holding you close.

“I just wanna say,” Richie begins, having garnered the attention of your group. You’re all huddled in a circle at the reception, champagne flutes in everyone’s hands.

“I know we don’t always see eye to eye…” Richie toasts, earning a few looks and side comments from your team. “And don’t forget about that time you stabbed me… but even if this brings a bunch of fuckin’ strokes to the restaurant, we’re so fuckin’ proud of you.”

“To Sydney, who’s… what does Carmy say… changed the chemistry and who is the heart of this restaurant,” Ebra adds on.

Tina smiles proudly, raising her glass to Sydney. It brings a smile to your face to see her all dressed up too.

“Syd, I don’t know where the hell we’d be without you,” Carmy continues, raising his glass.

“Cheers to you, Sydney!” you say, clinking champagne glasses, before taking your first celebratory drink as a team.

It doesn’t take long for your group to break off into smaller ones – making comments about how out of place you all feel at this fancy of an event. Richie’s wrapping an arm around Carmy’s shoulder, ushering him to a side conversation – something about ‘lizards this’, and ‘the working class that.’

“So how do you feel?” you ask, turning towards Sydney, taking a moment to quietly congratulate your friend.

“I think I’m still in shock,” she sighs in relief, earning a chuckle from you.

“Well, I’ll cheers to that. You know. To calm the nerves,” you joke, raising your glass once more.

“To liquid courage,” she agrees, clinking glasses with you again, as you both decide just to finish off your flutes of champagne.

“Can I get you another drink?” you offer, placing your now empty champagne

“Oooo can you get me one of those fancy themed cocktails I saw at the bar earlier?” Sydney replies, excitedly.

“Anything for you,” you say back.

“And when you’re back, I think I saw Carla Hall has a tasting table here so we should make our rounds,” Sydney mentions, because there’s no way either of you are missing out on the fact that the best chefs in the world are cooking in this room right now.

You nod in agreement, heading to the bar to get both you and Sydney a new round of drinks.

“What can I getcha?” the bartender asks.

You glance at the menu, deciding on your go-to, a gin and tonic, and then one of the featured cocktails of the evening that Sydney mentioned, knowing she’s a tequila drinker. You wait at the bar for your drinks, knowing the fancy mezcal cocktail you just ordered for Sydney will take a little bit of a time to make.

“I was wondering when I’d run into you,” you hear a voice say, grabbing your attention. It’s a familiar voice that you were really hoping you’d never have to hear again.

“Funny, because I was hoping to avoid you,” you quip back, turning to the man who’s just joined you at the bar. His bravado alone is enough to earn an eye roll from you and you can feel your guard going up.

“What’re you doing here?” you ask, unable to hide the disdain in your voice.

“You haven’t heard?” he asks, a cocky smirk on his face that you just want to slap off of it.

“I don’t make it my business to keep up with you, Walker,” you shoot back, using his last name as a formality, completely unamused by his question.

“God, I love it when you talk dirty,” he croons, a flirtatious low chuckle rumbling out of his chest.

You ignore him, rolling your eyes for the second time in the last two minutes, as you thank the bartender who’s just come back with your gin and tonic. You raise the glass to your lips, getting a head start since now, you definitely need this drink.

“Moved to LA. Took a CDC position out there. Besides, after you left… New York was… getting boring,” he explains, playing it cool. He drops the name of the well-respected LA restaurant that he’s running now in an attempt to impress you, which only seems to piss you off further.

You scoff in response. If you weren’t waiting on Sydney’s drink, you’d be long gone by now, but as you watch the bartender burn a sugar cube, you wonder how damn long it takes for a fucking mezcal drink to be made.

Maybe if I’ll just ignore him, he’ll fuck off, you think to yourself.

“You know, I was surprised to hear you moved to Chicago. Left without saying goodbye. Then again, should’ve known…” he provokes, continuing his very one sided conversation.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean, Nate?” you snap, turning your head to him, instantly regretting giving him the attention he’s so desperately seeking.

He raises an eyebrow, before nodding towards Carmy as a reply. Your gaze follows, and you can tell that Carmy’s noticed who you’re talking to at the bar.

“It’s a small world. Word gets around. People talk.”

But you’re not listening to him, your eyes fixed on Carmy. Carmy sends a look of concern your way, but you nod back to him as if to say ‘all good.’ You can hold your own here. Nate watches carefully, noticing the look you share with Carmy across the room. He was always a detail oriented son of a bitch.

“Classic golden boy,” Nate sighs, the envy in his voice giving him away.

“Don’t you think your little one sided rivalry with Carmy is getting a little old?” you laugh dryly.

“One sided?” Nate asks back, taking a step towards you.

“Yeah, one sided,” you repeat, standing your ground. Now way in hell you’re going to let this asshole back you up. “Because if I recall correctly, he never indulged you in your silly little games.”

Nate laughs again, taking another step towards you that makes you increasingly more uncomfortable.

“If that’s how you remember it.”

“Oh grow up.”

“Not when golden boy gets everything I want.”

“You’re so full of shit!” you exclaim, finally taking a step back. “Carmy’s had to work for everything he’s achieved. You and I both know that.”

“How do you think he’d feel,” Nate starts, and you’re not sure if he’s trying to sound seductive or intimidating – neither of which are working on you. “... if he knew about what happened between us? After he left New york? It was… what? A week, maybe two, before you jumped into bed with me?”

“Carmy knows I’m not a thing to be had, Nate,” you seethe, glaring at him.

The bartender returns with your second drink finally.

“You sure about that?” Nate smirks, reaching out to touch you.

What a fucking asshole.

“You’re disgusting,” you seethe, jerking your arm away from him. You take both of your drinks, and you can’t get out of there fast enough.

“It was great catching up,” he calls after you, cockily.

“Can’t say the same,” you say, not even turning to look back at him.

You return to your group, holding in your fury. It’s Sydney’s big night and you’d much rather focus on that than the asshole of an old coworker you can’t fucking stand. You try to shake off the interaction, deciding it’s not even worth expending energy on.

“What the hell was that all about?” Sydney asks, having witnessed your tenuous interaction with the man you called Nate. She thanks you as you hand her her new drink.

“Absolute trashcan of a human. We used to work with him. In New York,” you said, letting out a puff of flustered air.

“Okay but… that was weird right?” Sydney questions, seeing that this guy’s clearly gotten under your skin.

“Totally. He’s a piece of shit. He and Carmy always had this weird rivalry but it was mostly on his end. I… also may or may not have made the dumbest mistake ever once upon a time and slept with him… like… over a year ago,” you confess, feeling just a little bit guilty about it.

“Noooo,” she replies, her eyes widening. “You slept with that guy?”

“Yeah,” you answer, regretfully. “Not one of my finest moments. Long story short: right after Carmy left New York to come back here, I got a little too drunk with some coworkers. I was really sad and it was stupid, and uh, he was… let’s just say more than happy to play the part of a good listener.”

“Can’t imagine that guy being good, or a listener, let alone both at once,” Sydney replies, seeing the negative effect he’s had on you in one conversation.

“Yeah, It was a stupid fucking mistake and I regretted it the next morning. If you can believe it, he got even more insufferable when he realized it would never happen again,” you tell her, shaking off the bad taste in your mouth the conversation left you with.

“Yo,” Carmy says, hesitantly. He can tell that you’re pissed after your conversation at the bar. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” you answer, honestly. “Just Nate Walker being a fuckin’ asshole. But what’s new?”

“Hey Syd! Let’s go grab a bite,” Marcus calls to her.

“You guys mind?” she asks, looking from you to Carmy.

You shake your heads ‘no’, and honestly, you’re glad it gives you a little time alone with your boyfriend. You watch as Sydney leaves with Marcus to make the rounds, leaving you and Carmy alone.

“Haven’t heard that name in a while,” Carmy starts, bringing Nate up again. He can feel his face beginning to heat up as he asks you about it.

“Yeah.”

“Biggest jackoff in New York City.”

“Well, apparently he’s LA’s problem now.”

“Fucko,” Carmy says, shaking his head at the memory of his pain in the ass sous. He can’t figure out why seeing Nate talk to you near-sent him into a blind rage, but you’d reassured him that you were good so, he let you hold your own.

“Seems like he had a lot to say to you.”

“Yeah, lucky me,” you reply dryly.

“After that I think I need a shower. Or a bath of bleach.”

Carmy lets out a small laugh, releasing some of the tension he, unknowingly, was holding in his body.

“Listen, I don’t want to talk about Nate,” you say, changing the subject.

It’s not that you feel weird about it – that you’d feel weird telling Carmy about what happened between the two of you – but it just feels so small and insignificant in the face of the love that you have with Carmy.

“Good, me either,” Carmy exhales.

Another release in pressure.

He wonders if he’d been this tense all night, or if seeing you with Nate had managed to piss him off this much.

“You wanna dance?” you ask him, a mischievous smile on his face. You offer a hand out to him.

“Baby, you know I don’t dance,” he states, matter of factly.

“I know. But I do,” you say, with a wiggle of your eyebrows.

“One dance,” he warns, earning a triumphant smile from you.

He takes your hand, prompting you to put your drink down on the table where you’re all posted up at. Carmy shakes his head, surprised that you’ve coaxed him this far out of his comfort zone. As he pulls you into his arms, you giggle, wrapping yours around his neck and sway to the loud music in the background.

“Have I told you how beautiful you look tonight?” he asks you with such genuine love in those beautiful blue eyes of his.

He thinks you look like a goddess – could be the dress, but he’s pretty sure it’s you. Your hair is shorter now than it was a few months ago and lays in the softest, most gentle waves, parted perfectly down the middle. He hasn’t stopped staring at cherry red-painted lips all night, and every time he gets a peek of your legs through the high slit in the dress you’re wearing, he swears he short circuits.

Not to mention the low neckline. He’d watched you tie the top of the dress into a plunging neckline, and had to hold back his ask for you to cover up. It’s not that he cared about what you wore. But if he hadn’t been going to therapy over the last few months, he might feel some kind of way about anyone else getting to see any part of your breasts – anyone but him.

“A couple of times… but I won’t be mad about hearing it a few more, Bear,” you grin, leaning into him.

He smiles at your use of his childhood nickname. Back in New York, he’d kept it from you. It was just a reminder of what he’d left behind: his psycho mom, a nightmare of pain from his psycho-fucked-up family, how much it hurt when Mikey cut him out. But now, he loves the way it sounds coming from your lips, your voice the sweetest thing he’s ever heard. While he knows it’s taken him a long time to let you in, he’s glad he has. Whether it be at the restaurant or at the home you share together, you’ve become one of the most consistent things in his life.

The rest of the night is almost perfect. It’s filled with dancing, catching up with coworkers and friends in the culinary world, and most importantly, a celebration with your chosen family. That is, until you hear Sydney swear halfway across the room, catching the attention of you and Carmy both.

Carmy’s looking past you to where Nate is towering over Sydney at the bar. If looks could kill, he’s pretty sure Nate would be dead by now.

“Is that Nate again?” Carmy asks, his face pink as he feels a rush of blood flow throw him.

You can see that Sydney is practically in the same place you were an hour ago. You watch as he steps in front of her, practically blocking her in between him and the bar.

“I don’t like this. We should go over there,” you say with a sense of urgency.

Carmy agrees, and Richie and Marcus, who you’re currently conversing with, follow close behind.

“Okay. You need,” Sydney warns, her voice deliberate, like a rattlesnake giving one last warning before it strikes. “... to back… the fuck up.”

His response is even worse, causing a fire to burn in your belly as you overhear what he says to Sydney.

“Oh come on,” he coos, forcing himself closer to her. “I’m just trying to have a little fun.”

Sydney takes another step to the side, trying her best to escape him and holding her hands up as a barrier while you charge at him. Your sudden movement attracts his attention, giving Sydney the out that she needs. You put both of your hands on his chest, shoving him away from her as you shout.

“She said ‘no.’ What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Nate’s got such a smug, satisfied smirk on his face that, if you weren’t in a room filled with the best chefs in the world, you’d actually punch it right off of him. Carmy follows you, protectively standing behind you.

“Jealous?” he asks, amused. His eyes flicker over to Carmy, whose face is beginning to heat up, turning a brighter shade of red by the moment.

“In your dreams, asshat,” you spit back.

“Yeah, you’re right about that,” he says, completely satisfied as Carmy’s fist clenches. He’s clearly enjoying just how much he’s getting under his old boss’ skin.

You feel Carmy step towards him, but you turn to him, placing a hand on his abdomen to stop him, “Bear, it’s not worth it.”

“Did you tell him?” Nate asks you, with the intention of stirring the pot.

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, shaking your head in absolute disbelief.

“Tell me what?” Carmy asks you softly.

“How does it feel, golden boy? To know that the one thing you always wanted… I got to first,” Nate sneers, a threatening sound in his voice. He looks from you to Carmy, assessing the damage.

Before Carmy can say anything, it’s you who lurches towards NAte, and Carmy’s wrapping his arms around you to hold you back. You can feel the tension in his arms as he holds you against his chest protectively.

“Okay this motherfucker is just asking for it,” Richie seethes, charging towards Nate.

“Richie, don’t!” Sydney shouts, shooting him a ‘please don’t make a scene’ look.

It takes all of Richie’s self control to stop himself. He nods to her, holding up his hands as a surrender. He begins to take a few steps back as your uncomfortably public standoff continues.

Sydney has retreated back so that she stands side by side with Marcus, while Carmy’s loosened his grip on your waist.

By the look on Nate’s face, you can tell he thinks he’s gotten away with it all, as he looks around at all of you one last time.

“You all have a goodnight,” he smirks, before taking his drink and slithering away.

You could care less where to. You’re just glad he’s gone.

You watch as he goes before checking in with Sydney, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she says, shaking her head. Marcus is by her side in an instant and you can see Carmy’s jaw twitching with anger. “Can’t believe you used to work with that guy. Fuck that guy.”

“Yeah, fuck that guy,” Richie agrees under his breath.

“C’mon. Let’s just…” Marcus encourages quietly, nodding to your table.

Richie, Marcus, and Sydney all make their way back to your group as you stay with Carmy. His face is red and you can see it on his face that he’s still processing what just happened – what Nate said. You can see the gears turning in his head, and he’s staring at the floor, his face still cherry tomato-red.

“Carmy,” you say, ripping him from his thoughts.

He looks up at you, his face softening the minute you make eye contact.

“Can we go somewhere? Talk?” he asks, trying not to look like he’s going to burn the fuckin’ place down.

You agree with a nod, taking his hand and leading him elsewhere.

The further away from the reception you go, the quieter the party gets, and the louder your thoughts get. Would he be mad? You were furious with Nate for trying to use what happened to get under Carmy’s skin, but you also wonder if he’s mad at you too. For sleeping with Nate? For not telling him? But was it something you were supposed to tell him? It’s not like you expected him to tell you about every person he’d ever slept with.

Carmy finally stops, leading you into a quieter room, far away from the party. As you flick the lights on, it looks like a single dressing room for the plays performed here. The silence between the two of you is deafening, and it’s not just because it’s the first quiet moment you’ve had together since you arrived.

“I’m not mad… about Nate… about what he said,” Carmy says, breaking the silence between the two of you.

He’s trying his best to sound convincing, reassuring even, but he’s sure he’s doing a shit job.

You’re surprised, so you just take him in, searching his face for any clue that he’s telling that truth. His face is red, and you can see a tightness running across his chest as he’s looking for the courage to ask:

“But why didn’t you tell me?”

You sigh, unsure of what to say.

“Because…” you begin, hoping that if you just start talking, you’ll find the right words to explain. “I-, I didn’t think I had to. It happened once and it was a stupid mistake with… a lot of tequila involved.”

“You had just left New York and I was lonely. I didn’t say anything because… it didn’t mean anything to me, Bear.”

He listens, taking your explanation in, his eyes fixed on the floor again. He’s not mad at you, but he can’t seem to shake this feeling of anger – this tension that has him wanting to punch a hole through the wall.

“I don’t like what he fuckin’ said to you,” he finally blurts out.

“That- that he thinks he can just say whatever the fuck he wants. That he forced himself on Syd like that, like he can-.”

Carmy looks down at the floor again, his words trailing off.

He’s pissed.

You can tell he’s pissed.

But you have a nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach that says something else is going on.

Is Carmy… jealous?

“Carmy, I’m sorry you had to find out like this,” you apologize softly. “He shouldn’t have-, I mean he really is the worst fucking person to ever walk-.”

“I’m not upset about-,” he interrupts, firmly. He holds your gaze, trying to give you the most reassuring look he can. “I don’t care about-. I just… I don’t like the way he talked to you.”

You wait as he stews on his thoughts, his anger simmering as he sorts through his feelings. It’s like watching a hot pot of water come to a boil.

“I didn’t like seeing him touch you earlier like-.”

Let it rip.

“Like he can just put his hands on anyone he-. On you! I–.”

And then finally he explodes with, “I just fuckin’ hate that guy!”

It’s as if the pressure valve has been released as he lets out a big puff of air. While you can see it’s given him some relief, you’re still not sure what you’re supposed to offer at this moment.

“Carmy, what can I- hmmph?” you begin to ask, before being cut off by his lips on yours.

Well this isn’t what you were expecting.

Your head is spinning as your boyfriend kisses you with such passion, fervor, and urgency. He’s crashing his lips against yours at a desperate pace, and it’s all tongues and teeth and his hands are grabbing the back of your head, tangling into your hair. You’re not sure how you’ve gone from trying your best to hold space for your boyfriend’s feelings, to him pressing you up against the dressing room counter.

You gasp as he hoists you up onto the counter, pushing his body into yours.

“Carmy, are you-?” you ask, feeling the tent that’s already formed in his pants as you wrap your legs around him.

There’s a confident assertiveness he moves with, and as much as you hate to admit it, this is all turning you on.

“Hate that fuckin’ guy,” Carmy murmurs into your skin, as he begins to leave kisses down your jawline.

His mouth moves urgently down your neck, to your shoulders, to the exposed skin the plunging neckline of your dress reveals. His teeth leave light pink and purple marks in their wake, and you’re gasping, moaning, grabbing at any part of him you can hold on to. Little love bites begin to appear, but when he’s making you feel this good, you could care less.

He’s confident in the way he sucks little marks into your skin, biting down then immediately soothing the pain with his tongue. As he works his mouth over you, he looks up at you, his eyes wide, pupils blown out in pure desire, and it takes your fucking breath away.

Pain and pleasure.

Just to show the whole world that you’re his.

“Thinks he can fuckin’ look at you. Put his fuckin’ hands on you,” he mumbles against your skin. His mouth has reached the lowest point of your plunging neckline as he stands up, pushing himself against you between your legs.

“Baby,” you breathe out. You make a mental note to unpack why his sudden possessiveness has you so hot and bothered with your therapist next week.

“I really, really don’t want to talk about him right now.”

Carmy drops to his knees, stripping off his suit jacket and throwing it elsewhere. The sight has you absolutely drenched and you think you may cum just from looking at him.

“You’re mine,” is all he says, eliciting another moan from you as he sinks his teeth into the soft supple skin of your calf. You slide a heel-covered foot over his shoulder, as his lips begin trail up your calf, to your knee, to your inner thighs…

“Yes. I’m yours,” you breathe out, exasperated by Carmy’s sudden forwardness. You lean back, your head hitting the mirror with a thud. “All yours.”

He works his way up your thighs, leaving soft kisses on your inner thighs while his hands disappear underneath the skirt of your dress, frantically searching for your panties.

“Carmy, I don’t know if we have time for-,” you gasp, as he pulls away for a moment.

His curls are unruly from running your fingers through them, his lips swollen from the passionate makeout you started only moments ago. You feel his fingers hook underneath the top of your panties and he looks at you like he can see right through you. Holding your gaze, it’s impossible to not get lost into his ocean blue eyes you’ve fallen so deeply in love with. He takes his sweet time, teasing you, refusing to break eye contact, as he pulls your panties down your legs at an unbearable slow pace.

You don’t look away.

You don’t dare look away.

Finally, finally, he breaks eye contact, sliding your panties over your feet, and putting them into his pocket as you brace yourself for what comes next.

“We should-,” you start, your words ceasing instantly as he spreads your legs, licking a stripe up your dripping wet core. You cry out loudly, panicking almost instantly, because you don’t remember locking the damn door.

We should stop.

Do this elsewhere.

Lock the door.

Keep quiet.

But you can’t seem to get the words out, as you let out another loud moan, and Carmy doesn’t have the heart to stop you. Something primal inside of him wants nothing more than for the whole party mere hallways away to hear you crying out his name.

“Fuck, baby,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue through your folds. “Already so wet for me and I’ve barely even put my mouth on you.”

He wonders if there’s an award for this.

Lifetime Loser Award.

2023’s Most Jealous Boyfriend

Chef Most Likely to Fuck His Girlfriend During the James Beard Reception Because He’s a Sad, Jealous Fuck.

“Carmy, please,” you beg, scooting your hips off the counter and pulling him up from the ground. Your demand rips him from his own self deprecating thoughts.

“I need you inside of me. Now.”

You need him.

“Turn around,” is all he says.

He’s not sure where he gets the confidence for such a demand and it has you clenching around nothing.

You’re more than happy to oblige as you whisper out a ‘yes,’ and turn yourself around to face the mirror. You can hear the sound of him unzipping his pants, then he’s hiking up the skirt of your dress once more. He puts his hands on your hips to steady you – maybe even to steady himself – and you can feel the head of his cock running through your folds.

Just when you think you may die if you don’t get what you want, you let out the loudest cry you think has ever come out of your mouth as he pushes inside of you. You gasp, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as you feel him shudder against your back. Your head hangs low, just focusing on memorizing how every single inch of him feels inside of you.

Carmy’s thrusts are slow at first, deep and deliberate thrusts burying himself all the way to the hilt. The sight of his cock disappearing inside of you is really testing his patience here as he thinks he may go insane.

Back out.

Then back in.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet. So fuckin’ perfect for me. God, I love being inside of you,” he groans, enjoying his last few slow and deep thrusts.

He’s got one hand on your hips and the other, wrapped around your waist. As he begins to speed up the pace of his thrusts, the hand around your waist goes to the counter too, to brace himself.

“Carmen,” you moan his name, as he starts to go faster. “Yes. Perfect for you. Only you.”

Only you.

Your words cause him to smirk, and the sounds you’re making only encourage him to keep fucking into you like he means it.

“Look at yourself, baby,” he says, his words causing you to squeeze around him. He groans, his eyes rolling back, before he returns his gaze to the mirror.

When you lock eyes, it’s like you’ve been set on fire. Your skin feels hot, and the prolonged eye contact has you squeezing around him as you start to grind against him. You feel lightheaded, breathless, purely at his mercy.

Carmy holds your gaze through the mirror and you want to commit this photo to memory. You watch your reflections in the mirror, seeing your face change as he speeds up again. His hands are everywhere: in your hair, grabbing you breasts, tracing over the little marks he’s left all over your chest.

“This how I make you feel? Tell me. Tell me how good I make you feel,” he asks, and you think this is the most vocal he’s been during sex.

“So good, Car,” you’re panting. He grabs a handful of your hair, guiding your head to the side so that he can kiss you. You manage to continue your praise in between wet, sloppy, and desperate kisses, and desperate thrusts between the both of you.

“So fuckin’ good. So high. Like I’ll never come back down.”

He’s satisfied with your answer, feeling more and more confident with each thrust. You can tell he likes it, so you decided, why the hell not?

“You feel incredible inside of me, baby,” you continue, wanting nothing more than to appease him.

He’s swallowing your moans in his mouth, as he continues to fuck you, your pushing your ass back against him, your hands bracing against the mirror. You see stars as he hits that spot inside of you – the one that makes you let out a sob – and he’s bending you over the counter so that he can find that spot again and again. Carmy presses his forehead against your shoulder as his hands move underneath your skirt once again, rubbing fierce circles around your clit, trying to take you there with him. He knows he won’t last long when you’re moaning his name like that. He looks up for a moment, enjoying the reflection in the mirror a little too much, before sinking his teeth into your shoulder, feeling himself get closer… closer…

You can feel he’s close too, so you say something, something you know will bring him over the edge.

“Want you to cum inside of me.”

“That what you want? Want me to fill you up? Have me dripping down your legs when any other fucko tries to talk to you tonight. Tries to even fuckin’ look at you…” he asks, his breath ragged and sentences becoming increasingly choppy.

He's leaving little kisses and bite marks all over your upper back as he continues to fuck you.

“Yes,” you pant, moaning his full name once again.

“Fffffffuck, baby. That’s so hot,” he stutters, his thrusts becoming more erratic. He grabs a handful of your ass, chasing his high with you.

You’re squeezing your eyes shut so hard you see stars when he finds that spot again, and you remember that he wanted you to watch. You blink open your eyes, breathless as you take in the image of your boyfriend fucking you from behind. He’s got his forehead resting on your shoulder. You feel the delicious contradiction of pain and pleasure once again, as he sinks his teeth into the soft skin of your shoulder, in the same place from before.

So close. And you're already so tender.

“Carmen. Yes. Right there. Please, baby. Fuck. Don’t stop,” you’re crying out as you as your walls clamp down around him. It’s like an explosion erupts inside of you and you feel that you perhaps are on another fuckin’ plane of existence from the way he makes you feel.

Your eyes close again as he fucks you through your orgasm, taking you higher and higher. The way your walls are squeezing around him have him on edge and he gives you one, two, and then a third thrust before painting your walls with his release too.

He stops, resting his head on your back again, still buried all the way inside of you.

Both of your heavy pants fill the room, before you interrupt the status quo with a laugh.

“Holy shit, babe,” you finally say, exasperated and completely fucked out.

He pulls out of you, and you have to put a hand down on the counter he just bent you over, for balance as you stand up straight. You can hear Carmen pulling his pants back up and you’re adjusting your dress as you turn to look at him. His eyes are fixed on the button of his trouser pants, as you grab his face for another long, lust-filled kiss.

“What do you say… to getting out of here? Maybe continuing this at home?” you propose, your voice hoarse from what you’ve just done. Your forehead is still pressed to his and you want nothing more for him to say ‘yes.’

“Fuck yes. Please,” he practically groans, wondering how it’s possible for him to be hard again already.

“I’ll order a car,” you agree, reaching for where you left your phone on the dressing room counter.

“Surge rates, babe” he sighs, the disappointment evident in his voice as he issues the little reminder.

You shoot him a look that says ‘you’ve got to be fucking kidding me?’

“I will pay all the surge rates in the world, if I get to have you again, as soon as possible,” you state, and he’s not sure he’s going to be able to wait till you get home.

You glance back down to your phone, your fingers moving quickly through the right buttons to get a car on the way. As soon as you see the confirmation, your swiping out of the app, and over to an unread message:

Sydney: So that was weird. Where did you guys go?

You: Out for some air. Sorry, we’ll be right back in.

Sydney: Angel wants pizza and a few of us are gonna go. Wanna come with?

You: Think we’re gonna head home. Breakfast tomorrow? My treat.

Sydney: 100%

You: Congratulations again, friend. Love you.

“What’s going on?” Carmy asks, as he sees you fiercely texting away.

“Nothin’,” you answer, seeing the Uber notification popping up on your phone. “Just telling everyone we’re gonna head home.”

You turn your back to the mirror to examine the damage, immediately spotting Carmy’s bite mark on your shoulder.

“Carmen,” you sigh, fingertips running over the huge bite mark on your shoulder – the one he left when he made while cumming inside of you.

Carmy takes a look, a small smirk on his lips as he sees what you’re referring to. He has to admit that he’s almost… proud of himself as he leans over, leaving a soft kiss against one of the rapidly forming purple bite marks left on the back of your shoulder.

As much as he’d like to show the entire culinary world that you’re his, he removes the suit jacket he just put back on, and hands it to you.

“Here. You can wear this.”

You giggle, taking it and appreciating Carmen’s act of chivalry.

“As much as I’d love to do a walk of shame through a room full of the world’s best chefs… think I’ll keep this one between me and the one that just fucked me,” you joke playfully, as you kiss him as a ‘thank you.’

You check your reflection in the mirror as you drape the coat strategically over your shoulders, making sure you both look somewhat presentable enough to flee the scene with dignity.

“Carm?” you ask.

“Before we leave. I just-, I want you to-,” you stammer, uncertain if you’re doing the right thing by telling him. You’d hate to play into Nate’s little game – even if you both won after what just happened.

“Hmm?”

“Just… you know… for the sake of factual accuracy and not that we’re playing Nate’s game at all but... you and I hooked up first. Nate just doesn’t know that.”

He nods in response, trying not to make it seem like a big deal.

But it certainly makes him feel better.

“Well, if we’re being factually accurate…” he offers up in response. “I know you always thought our whole rivalry thing was one sided… but it wasn’t.”

“No?”

“Rode that guy as hard as I could, every chance I got,” he confesses, in reference to your old, very toxic work environment.

“Because he deserved it?”

“Because I hated how much he flirted with you.”

You shake your head with a small smile. Your phone is buzzing in your hand, letting you know that your Uber has arrived.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here, Bear.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmy berzatto #carmy x oc #the bear hulu #the bear fx #carmen 'carmy' berzatto #sydney adamu #make my heart surrender #carmy smut #carmy berzatto smut

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silassinclair · 8 months ago

Note

Leon single dad x kindergarten teacher PLEASEEE🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻

This is so adorable!! This is great too because Father’s day is coming up. Single dads deserve the world <3 Also Leon will be around 29 yrs old in this and reader will be 27. Oh also the title of this oneshot is the name of a song I really like lol. Hot for Teacher by Van Halen ;)

Masterlist Here!!

Hot for Teacher

The agency Leon worked with (D.S.O.) was busy today. So him having to pull out of work because he got a call from the school did not improve his already sour mood. Apparently his son Vincent (Vinny or Vince for short) got into a fight today. And Leon would rather not have to deal with entitled parents and a careless principal. Leon knows he isn’t the best Dad. Hell, when he received Vinny he was way too young to be a Father. It started when he came home from Spain and there was a baby and a DNA test on his doorstep.

He parks his motorcycle crooked and carelessly in a spot and walks up to the school while mumbling curses under his breath. Leon walks in but is stopped by a woman calling to him.

“Excuse me?”

Leon turns and sees you standing there and stops his stride. You’re a sweet, pretty young woman. The white sundress you wear has various colors of paint stains on it. And your earrings are fishbowls. Your outfit screams kindergarten teacher, or art teacher.

Not wanting to look bad in front of a pretty woman Leon rakes a hand through his hair and smiles.

“Yeah? What is it? I’m kind of in a hurry.”

You look the man up and down. Was he a parent? You’ve never seen him in any parent teacher conferences. Nor have you seen him volunteer at any events. Honestly, he doesn't look like the type to show up to either.

“What’s your business here? All guests need to sign in at the office.” You say politely. Hopefully this guy wasn’t bad news. The leather jacket and denim jeans pretty much scream bad boy. But you don't want to assume someone's character based on appearance. Hell, you could be the nicest person in the world and dress like someone out of the Mad Max universe.

“I got a call today.” The man tells you. “My son Vinny, er, Vincent Kennedy got in a fight today.”

Now that you look at him you can see his resemblance with your star student.

“Oh! You must be Leon then. I’m Ms. L/n, Vincent’s teacher.” You offer your hand to his and he shakes it. His hands are rough and calloused, grip firm and strong. He probably does some intense work to have rough hands while being so young.

Leon's eyebrows raise and his gaze scans over you; the woman who is around his son the majority of the day.

"Perfect timing then. Could you take me to him?"

You nod. "Sure. Let's sign you in real quick and then go to the principal's office. The other kid's parents are here too."

While walking to the main office together the taller man eyes you beside him. He says nonchalantly, "So what happened exactly? You're the teacher so you must have saw it all happen."

You nod. "It was during recess. A student said something about how Vincent didn't have a Mother and proceeded to make fun of him, calling him a teacher's pet because Vincent is my star student. So Vincent punched the other student in the face and it just escalated it from there."

As he listens to you explain what happened Leon nods in understanding. His son shouldn't have hit first but he honestly wasn't mad at him. Vincent's five years old so of course he can't control his emotions well yet. And saying insulting things will lead to getting a busted jaw depending on who you insult. That was how Leon was raised from where he was from. You spit shit then you get hit. Simple as that.

But what caught his attention was you mentioning that his son was your star student.

"Vinny's your star student?" He asks curiously.

With a smile you nod. "Yeah, your son is amazing. He's smart and he makes friends with everybody. Well, except for the student he got into a tussle with today of course."

The two of you laugh lightly. Leon smiles softly as you ramble on about his son's accomplishments. He's glad someone gives his son the appreciation he deserves while he isn't around. Leon felt like he wasn't enough for his son. Being a single Father and working a full time job was hard and he couldn't give his boy the time he deserved. So knowing that a pretty, kind, and motherly woman like you watches and educates his son five days a week takes some weight off his chest.

You sign Leon in and take him to the principal's office. There sitting is Tyler's Mother and Father, Vincent, and an empty chair besides Vincent. Leon sits beside his son and worriedly looks him over. He notices a cut on the five year old's lip and luckily nothing else. Tyler looks worse with a bruised cheek, cut on his forehead, and scrapes on his knees.

"You've finally arrived Mr. Kennedy. Do you know why you were called here today?" The principal says.

The Mother of Tyler looks like she's about to explode. "He knows why he's here! It's because his wild child hit our son!"

Her voice makes you and Leon physically cringe.

"Ms. Mason please calm down. We're here to discuss this like adults. Not school children." The principal says firmly. "Now I want to finish this meeting quickly because I have other things to do so I will make it quick. Because Vincent struck first he will receive four days suspention. But because Tyler instigated he will receive three days of suspention."

"What?!" The Masons say at the same time. But Leon gives a satisfied nod and grunt of approval.

"Seems fair to me. Now let's go Vinny, we're leaving." Leon picks his son up in his arms and walks out of the office, leaving the two argumentative parents and their brat son behind. You also leave the office because you would rather not have the parents suddenly direct their wrath at you.

Leon and Vincent are already outside now. But Vincent seems fussy about something.

"What is it bud?" Leon says when he feels his son trying to wiggle out of his arms.

"I forgot to say bye to Ms. L/n!" Vincent says with a whine. Leon sighs with a smile and puts his son down. He watches him make a beeline for you who's still by the front entrance.

"Oomph-!" You grunt when the little boy suddenly hugs you. "Are you feeling better Vince?" You ask. After all the little boy was crying angrily a little while ago when Tyler said he didn't have a Mom.

"I feel better!" Vincent says with a grin. "It's okay because I have Daddy and I have you."

You tilt your head in question. "Huh? What do you mean Vince?"

The little boy beams up at you. His little arms are still around your hips. "I don't need a Mommy if I have you Ms. L/n! You're better than some other Moms I've seen." The boy says, clearly referencing how Tyler's Mom went psycho in the principal's office minutes prior.

You chuckle lightly. God he was so cute. Patting his head you reply. "Thank you Vince that means a lot to me."

You didn't notice how Leon had already made his way closer. He must have heard everything his son said because he was smiling softly.

"Let go of the pretty lady Vinny, you'll squeeze her to death if you keep that up."

With a small groan Vincent lets go of you.

"Oh I don't mind Mr. Kennedy. Your son isn't quite strong enough yet to cut off my airway."

Vincent pouts as you and Leon chuckle. "I'm gonna get big and strong very quick! You'll see Ms. L/n!"

Leon ruffles his son's hair. "Sure you will squirt. And you don't have to call me Mr. Kennedy. Just Leon is fine."

You smile warmly. "Well then in that case just Y/n is fine for me. Only my students call me Ms. L/n."

The man smirks and looks you up and down. Clearly some thoughts are brewing in his head.

"Well well it looks like we're already on a first name basis. How about I treat you to dinner sometime?" Leon says with a flirtatious smirk.

You giggle in return. "I'd love to."

Leon and you exchange phone numbers while little Vinny is pouting. Leon sees this and pouts in return. "Aww what's wrong buddy?"

"I wanna go on play dates with Ms. L/n too! It isn't fair that you get to. You only met her today."

You smile and pat the boy's head. "If your Dad allows it then you can come with us."

That seems to brighten his mood instantly. "Really?! Daddy please let me come too!"

Leon stares at you with a deadpan while you giggle.

"Yes you can come with Daddy on his date. Just don't make me look lame." Leon says with a small scowl.

"I'll wear my Lightning McQueen jacket! It's the coolest jacket I have!"

"The ladies will dig that bud."

"Even Ms. L/n?"

"Nope. Only I'm allowed to impress your pretty teacher."

#leon kennedy fluff #leon scott kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil fic #x reader #leon kennedy x you #fluff

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seishirospeaches · 1 year ago

Text

━━ I'm so lonely ♡🍒

・❥・

synopsis : there are many reasons to why you missed coming back to your hometown, firstly, your mother's cooking, spending days just doing nothing in particular except for one. You started to develop strange feelings for the hot single father who just moved in last summer, now all you could do is watch him afar but this time you wanted to go far.

genre: smut (can't handle it? get out while your at it) warning: masturbating, unprotected sex, cuss, choking, a lot more and Toji is a warning.

伏黒甚爾 (Toji F.)

a/n: click on the photo I have a surprise <3

finally Christmas break was here and you have been planning to return to parents house, all your friends planned to celebrate the holidays with their partners some with their family going to another country whereas you wanted it to be simple.

You took the last remaining stuff left as you headed to your car driving home, it was a bit traffic since everyone was also doing a last minute Christmas shopping, you thought maybe it wasn't a bad idea too since you haven't really bought anything for your parents. You pulled over to a parking lot and headed to a store buying presents for your family.

Too bad this time around you might not even have the time to wrap them up, but you know you store some old paper bags and gift wrappers in your room for a good use. You could hide it from them ones you get home. Driving home as your reached to your place you had to open the trunk to retrieve your bags, you struggled to get them but that's until you felt a large hand taps on your shoulder.

"Need a hand on that?" You spunned around looking at his muscles ripping over that tight fitting black shirt his denim jacket was doing a little small justice to see his veiny arms you drool over with. You tried not to look like your checking him out but it was too hard to divert your eyes elsewhere.

"Y-yeah, thanks." Moving over to the side he takes your bags, not before long your parents came out dashing towards you through the front yard.

Your mom cooing was a little embarrassing but you hope your hot neighbor didn't have to catch your beet red face, she kept thanking the neighbor for helping you out. All he did was smirk at you with the scar on the side of his lip, you swore you'd never seen a better looking man than him it was too impossible.

After settling in your mother busied herself cooking while your father was setting up more Christmas decors with your little sister Utahime.

Your window has the perfect view of him in his room, he was all sweaty, panting, he probably had a good work out but the moment he pulled over his shirt you were a goner.

It was too good to pass up, the reason you came home this winter break was just to see him and dream of letting his hands get all over you.

You were never like this at all, they say you were like a saint, a goody two shoes kind of girl, the one who they viewed to be innocent.

But innocent you weren't, all the good girl facade wasn't true anymore. It all went out the window the moment he moved in as your neighbor, everyday, all night and day all you could think of was him. You were willing to throw yourself to him if it was only possible to do so.

You missed him so much, you can't be satisfied at all you can't deny the need of wanting to taste a single father who has two children, you wanted him all to yourself.

You were quick to lock the door, laying to your bed as you stare up to the ceiling, slowly taking off your pants along with your panties, pulling your shirt up as to reveal your breast, twirling around your nipple as you slowly try to get aroused, biting down your lower lip as your other hand travels down, your wet folds, slowly sliding a finger in, pumping in and out as you moan, the other hand pinching your nipple, imagining someone else, touching you, feeling your soft skin, as your pussy becomes wetter, your finger picking up the pace, the sounds of your moans, and wetness echoing in your room.

You try to imagine it was Toji's fingers than yours, you think how he looks so good on top of you

He was a lot bigger than you, and a lot stronger, you can already see him using that strength on you, slamming into you, making you moan for him, his large hand on your throat, the other holding both your wrists together, keeping them above your head as you were too weak to struggle out of his grip, the feeling of him dominating you was something you can only dream of, but here you were, dreaming about it.

Your mind goes back to the time he was close to you earlier, his scent those large hands, his fingers deep within this cunt, the feeling of him thrusting his fingers into you was all you could think of, your fingers not able to satisfy you anymore, as you try to keep your moans low, trying not to get caught, not wanting your mother to hear what you're doing, your eyes rolling back, as you imagine more of him.

His fingers, the way they felt inside you, the way he touched you, it was something that kept you awake, you wanted more you want it so bad. Until you creamed but it wasn't enough, you still feel like you want more. Taking over as you dared to do the unthinkable, you moved your bed near the window as you see him relaxing by his bed with a magazine on his hand you can tell it was about cars, you made him have a perfect view of you.

"fuck this." You move the curtain away making sure he sees this show for himself only.

You take a pillow, riding on it, moving up and down on it as if it was him instead of a pillow, showcasing how much you wanted him inside of you. You dare to look over outside the window surprised to see he was already watching the scene unfold before him, you bit your lower lip as your grope both of your breast kneading them in front of him, pinching your nipples, teasing him, showing him how you wished it was him instead.

His eyes on you, was enough to get you off, the fact that he was enjoying this show, and how he was slowly stroking his hardening cock was enough to turn you on, the feeling of your wet cunt on the pillow was enough, as you rode on it, trying to chase after the orgasm that was slowly creeping up to you, your moans becoming louder as the friction of the pillow on your clit was enough to send you off the edge, cumming on the pillow.

You look back outside to see him gone, a little upset at how he disappeared, but not until a knock came from your door, making you jump from where you were.

"Sweetie, we invited the neighbor for dinner do you mind to help us prepare here we only have a few minutes before they arrive." It was your mother behind the door, you gave a quick answer as you were still panting.

━━━━━

The dinner went well surprisingly, you borrowed a dress from your mother it was a black velvet fitted dress. You knew he was coming over so you wanted to dress to impress him even though the whole time he wasn't even looking at you, you were trying to strike a conversation with him he simple manages to dodge it, only his sweet eldest daughter Tsumiki was answering you instead, she was smiling brightly at you most of the time and somehow you got along with her and the youngest child Megumi was practically four, he kept close contact and always wanting to sit beside you.

You all stayed in the living room, you were in the kitchen washing the dishes while your mother was making hot cocoa with Toji who was kind enough to help her you could hear them talking about his children, how he manages them and work, you knew the wife was already out of the picture long time ago when Megumi was only months old you heard it while they were talking. You were in your own world until you felt a hand on your waist.

"That show, was it for me?" He whispered, his chest on your back and his lips were tickling your ears.

"It was." He let out a dark laughter, you could feel it to his chest as he was never this close to you before, you tried to peer behind him to see if any of your family could see this.

"Don't worry, no one gives a flying fuck when they see us." He lightly kisses your collarbone, his fingers caressing your thighs as it goes up and down.

"Don't start something you can't finish, doll." His voice was smooth and deep and sent tingles down to my spine, making it hard to think. I tried to keep my own tone even, despite the heat building in my core.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," I replied.

I dare to reply, even with his eyes on me. His gaze made me want to squirm in my seat, but I managed to hold my ground.

"I would be happy to find out." He raised a brow, his mouth quirked up at the corners, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

He's trying to get me to back down, I thought.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I said, raising a brow. "You have no idea who you're talking to, or what you're getting yourself into."

He let out a chortle, looking dangerously into my eyes

"Well, now you have me interested, darling. How about we let that dream of yours come true, hm?"

I stared into his dark eyes, and he did the same. My heart hammered against my chest, and my body ached with a need I wasn't used to.

"Maybe we can," I replied, taking another sip of my drink.

His gaze dropped to my lips as I licked the alcohol from them. His hands tightened around the glass, and I had a sudden image of him lifting me onto the table and having his way with me right here and now.

He reached over and pulled the empty glass from my hand, setting it aside. Then he lifted my hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

"Until next time," he said, winking and standing from the booth.

What a tease.

He twirls me around before dipping in his lips close to my ear.

"Meet me outside before the clock strikes twelve, make sure you wear nothing underneath I like you without clothes, doll." He licks behind my ear causing me to whimper, my knees were about to give in. He moves back as he walks to the living room.

I waited and kept glancing over the clock, I wanted him more than I have wanted anything else. His gaze at me throughout the night made my panties damp, with his legs spread wide looked like an invitation for me to crawl to him, to straddle, to have the best night ever.

They have left, I did wait and follow his words I sat down to my bed taking a trench coat from my closet making sure I had nothing inside. Everyone in the house was asleep, I quietly walk down the stairs locking the front door as I walk towards my neighbors house, before I could knock the door swung open revealing his naked top with black pants on he quickly scoop me in his arms as he kicked the door close. He quickly kissed me and carried me up the stairs into his room.

He laid me down and began to strip my coat off I was about to protest but it's a little to late to change my mind.

He was hovering over me kissing my lips and making his way down to my chest and began to undo his pants revealing his cock sprung up to hitting his stomach I could feel his tip touch my folds.

I wrapped my legs around his hips he left wet kisses around my neck down to my breast and took one in his mouth I bit my lips as I could feel him push himself into my entrance.

I let out a groan in pleasure and pain as he pushed his length inside me. Once he was fully in I let out a breath I was holding in and he waited for me to adjust, I wiggled my hips to give him the signal to start moving and he began to thrust slowly.

His pace picked up, his grunts were like music to my ears, my moans were echoing through his room, my arms were around his neck pulling him closer, my breast were bouncing.

"Fuck, knew you taste better but you taste so sweet." He said while licking my neck.

"S-Stop teasing me." I said in a moan.

"Oh? So you want me to fuck you harder?" He said picking up the pace.

"Yes please!" I moaned.

He began to pound harder into me, the bed started to move a little. He grabbed my hand and pinned them above my head. He kept ramming into me, the pleasure was building up and I felt like I was going to explode.

"Fuck...I'm so close..." I moaned.

"Let go baby."

I could feel my orgasm reach it's peak and I finally released my orgasm. He wasn't done yet he was still going.

"Please cum for me."

He was grunting, I was moaning, and we could feel our orgasm build up and he finally let out his load, the feeling of him releasing his hot cum inside me sent shivers down my spine.

He moves away, I was thinking we were done but instead he grabs my ankles pulling me down towards him and flipped me over so I'm on my hands and knees. He was behind me pushing himself back into me, I let out a moan and gripped the sheets.

He grabs my hair pulling my head back as he was ramming into me, the slaps could be heard from a mile away, his grunts could make me cum again.

"Yes! Oh fuck yes!" I moaned.

"That's right baby say my name, who makes you feel good."

"You do, oh god yes!" I moaned, my breast jiggling in each thrust.

"Say my fucking name doll."

"T-Toji, don't stop please!" I moaned.

"Cum again for me baby."

"Oh god! Yes, I'm gonna cum!"

My orgasm was building up, my body was trembling, my eyes rolling in the back of my head.

"You want me to cum inside you huh, answer me doll."

"Please Toji, fill me up!" I moaned.

"Good girl."

He went deeper and I was at my limit, my body was trembling as my orgasm came to its climax, his hot seed filled me up.

He pulled out and collapsed next to me, I fell on the bed and he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer to him.

"So I guess I won't be going back home tonight." I laughed, he smirked kissing me as our tongues fight.

"You won't leave this bed not until the sun comes up." I could feel his cock still hard.

"Round 3?"

"Fuck yes."

The whole night was spent fucking, he kept his word we ended when the sun was already peaking through the dark clouds.

Meanwhile the door swung open, revealing a sleepy Megumi as he crawls in the bed between the two of you.

You both opened your eyes noticing how Megumi must've fell asleep trying to wake his father, Toji was admiring how you looked so soft around his children.

Kissing your forehead, "your gonna make me wanna knock you up with my babies." You both laughed.

"Is that your way of asking me out or not?"

"I'd really want to ask you out on a date." The door swung open revealing Tsumiki.

"Utahime is at the front door looking for Y/n" She said, looking back and forth and her fathr then you.

"Oh crap." You mumbled.

#toji x reader #toji x you #toji fushiguro x you #toji fushiguro x reader #toji zenin #toji fushiguro #toji smut #fushiguro toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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levismoker · 8 months ago

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To my hot friend @cigarboii

Luke and I have been online friends for a long time. I don't remember when we started chatting, but I suppose we met on Recon or fetishmen. We share plenty of kinks and we are both passionate smokers.

As I live in Mexico most of the year, only when I return to Europe we can meet, but for one reason or another, we had never met yet. So finally last month, once I was visiting my family in Barcelona he invited me to spend a weekend with him.

I was fucking excited because although we have jerked off online plenty of times, I was eager to finally meet him and play together in person. We perfectly know one each other and what we like.

Although I was going for just 3 days, I took all my gear for the occasion, leather, Adidas and denim, and I really hoped he let me use his skinhead gear that is still missing in my closet. Once I was at the airport I bought a couple of cartons for him as gratitude for inviting me. We are both heavy smokers, but that weekend I already knew that we would completely fuck our lungs. Luke was joking telling me that he had an oxygen mask so we could stand up on Monday.

Once I arrived to Brussels he was going to take me in the airport. Once I took my luggage, I want out to the parking zone. I looked for the smoking spot and I send him a pic with my first red in the country. Five minutes later he arrived to fetch me. We hug one each other as old friends.

He was wearing his TN, Adidas t-shirt and jacket and leather pants. And obviously he had a red waiting in his ear. As always, he made me get hard. My cock was already pressing my Levi's. I also was wearing my red Adidas t-shirt but with my leather jacket and Levi's.

The plan was first go for dinner and then party in Brussels. Then we would go to his village and next day to Antwerp.

We sat in his car. It was a completely mess. There were butts and ash everywhere. And was plenty of empty packs.

-i always keep them because sometimes there still reds inside. By the way bro, I have forgotten my carton at home and I have just two reds left in my pack, I have to go to to a tobacco shop first.

I took my bag and I opened it.

-this is for you, dude, it's my way to thank you- I said giving him the two cartons of Marlboro- I know that here is much more expensive so I have come well provided.

-wow man! Thank you! You know how to make me happy!

He then light his red and started riding to the city center.

-i should put my gear, bro! - I told him.

-you don't need more, Pep. It's perfect what you are wearing. I love your trashed Levi's and your red Adidas t-shirt.

-i mean, as I had to go through the metal controls I saved my harness and jocks in my luggage. But I would love to wear it for Brussels party night.

-oh, sure bro! I'm wearing them too. I think it's better if instead of carrying your bag looking for a toilet once we park and you put your gear on.

We ride for 15 minutes more. We were chaining all time. Everytime we finished our reds, I took 2 from the pack, spark up them and give it one to Luke.

I coughed a little after doing a couple of deep drags.

-you should quit bro! - said Luke ironically, laughing with his red dangling.

-once I die, I will stop smoking!- I said exhaling the smoke on him.

The smoke inside the car was so thick that Luke told me that he had poor driving visibility.

We finally arrived to the parking spot next to the city. There was no people in the streets and just a lonely park with some benches with few young men making fuss. I then took my gloves, my harness and jocks from my luggage and put it on.

Luke took his Adidas jacket and I put my leather jacket.

-are we going to come back to the car before the club?

-We can go directly, I would take now all you need.

-ok I will take another pack then- I opened my carton to take one more pack for the night. I was already wearing one still full and the other one almost finished, so it was better to go well stocked.

He did the same, and took two packs from the carton I had given him.

Watching him made me fucking crazy. I grab my red from my lips and I balanced on him, kissing it and swapping my smoke.

We kept kissing five minutes. Everytime I wanted to breathe I sucked the smoke from his mouth, and he did the same. Our cocks were completely hard. It was the best way to start the night.

Finally we decided to move and go for a bench in a less exposed zone. He gave me a plastic bag with 6 beers and he closed the car.

The plan was start drinking in the park. We are not rich men, so he told me that we could drink there and arrive to the club already happy. Besides we could be free to smoke there too.

We finally looked for a bench, we sat there and we opened our first bottles of beer.

We started talking about our lives as two good friends. There were few people in the park, but twice young men came to ask us for a cig. It's polite in the smoker's community to calm the cravings of a brother needing a cig. We all have needed it, and its really strange that another smoker don't offer you a cig. We were there for one hour until we finished the beers.

Then we decided to go for something to eat before going to the fetish bar. Once we sat on the terrace, the waiter came and we both ordered burgers and beer. The waiter brought us a clean ashtray after we put our opened packs on the table.

Once we finished our burgers, Luke told me:

-bro, I also have a present for you

And then he opened his fanny pack and took two wide gars.

-yeah! Thanks bro!- I said doing the last drag of my red.

Although I rarely smoke gars, he is a great "aficionado". I had always ask him to teach me to learn to enjoy a good gar.

Once we had our gars lit we decided to post a pic on Instagram to see if any friend was going to join us later.

Although I definitely prefer my reds (perhaps just because I'm used to it) I loved the natural scents and taste of the gar. I have always felt strange by not inhaling the smoke and just taste it in the mouth, but anyway it was a big present. Around 30 minutes later we finished our gars, and after doing two rounds of shots, we paid the bill and finally we went to the fetish club already a little bit drunk and with our lungs fully charged. Actually we were like 15 minutes without sparking up, the largest span of time of the night.

We didn't walk much until we finally made for the pub. As Luke expected there were quite fetish men gathered there because there was the skinhead night. Inside the pub smoking wasn't allowed, so we joined the other smokers that were standing up next to the door surrounding a big ashtray that was already completely full of ash and butts.

There were three skinheads with cigs on one hand and a beer on the other. Although we love our Adidas gear, we damned not going with our skinhead gear too. At least, although I wasn't wearing bleachers, I was wearing Levi's as almost all men in the party.

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apoptoses · 11 months ago

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It is #Molloy Monday and I am here to remind you that Daniel is featured most from 1975-1985 aka the Sluttiest Era of Modern Male Fashion.

Coming in HOT we have the cut off short shorts and cropped t-shirt or mostly unbuttoned button down combo. Daniel visited some warm climates during the chase years so I invite you to picture him in the tiniest ripped jean shorts sweating over whether or not that auburn haired lady down the street is actually Armand!!

Or going into the 80s sometimes the tops were REALLY cropped and exposed midrift and back!! Like just picture Daniel fucking around on Night Island in this, wow wow!!

But even when the pants were long the t-shirts were TIGHT, maximum pec definition through the shirt was a must.

If he didn't wanna show that much skin? That was fine because turtlenecks where IN baby!! These are basically vampire lingerie imo, covering up the most succulent part of the neck but still leaving a hint exposed below the jaw?? Armand had to have been dying of thirst!!!

(Also when it says Armand came to pick Daniel up from jail in a lawyer's tweed suit? He wasn't wearing no modern cut, he'd have been rocking the big lapels because this was the 70s tyvm)

Also important to note was that the 70s were the era of glam rock and androgyny, so picking a silky button down that looks like a women's blouse? Totally okay for men, very in style so long as you leave the top buttons undone to expose maximum chest.

Btw velour? Was IN. This is the 1979 equivalent of a juicy couture tracksuit which Armand could have snuggled right into while they were living in London.

And while the 80s sees the rise of a looser fit, that doesn't mean the crop top died or that people weren't still rocking a more form fitted jean when they were feeling casual.

This photo is from NYC in 1983 and shows that tight t-shirts and short shorts were still very much alive, just styled a bit differently! A tight top and looser straight leg jeans, or short bottom and a flowy open top took the place of all fitted looks.

Or that the mostly unbuttoned button down went away- if anything in the 80s the buttons went even LOWER and more revealing. Paired with a boxy linen suit this is essential 80s Miami aka Night Island looks.

and yeah that's spader, leave me alone, he's peak 80s here

This sweater is loose but it's got the deep V neck and a sheer knit, perfect for the beach!!

And yeah this is Sapder AGAIN but note the half open shirt, leather jacket, and jeans that get tighter near the ankle!! Classic 80s, baggy but still sexy, A+.

I SWEAR this is the last time I'm gonna use and abuse him but peep the muscle tank with the DIY cut edges on the arm holes! V neck! 80s!!!

Basically the takeaway here is that if you're putting them in the 80s and having them rock something baggy and double denim, the look still featured a tight waistline and rolled sleeves or rolled ankles to tighten the jeans. It wasn't just baggy all over!!

Here's some random images from the entire era to finish off:

So next time you're working on fic or art instead of just tossing Daniel into a regular old t-shirt and jeans consider doing some slutty 70s and 80s looks instead 😌

#daniel molloy #vampire chronicles #devil's minion #armand/daniel #vc shitpost #oops another spader adjacent post NOT SORRY ABOUT IT #he has so many early 80s movies they're easy to harvest from okay #and he's got the ash blond hair and beseeching look down #ANYWAYS i demand more daniel in short shorts art and fic tyvm #vc headcanons #apoptoses originals

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cassiebones · 1 month ago

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Prompt from @imyouraziraphale

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!

"We need a Christmas tree."

"We have a Christmas tree, Nicholas," Agatha said, pointing to the corner of the room where their tree sat.

"Mama, that is a drawing. It's not even in color!"

"It was good enough last year," Agatha huffed, crossing her arms. Her son gave her a look that may as well have been her own reflection and she groaned.

"We need a real tree," Nicky insisted. "Like the one in the mall!"

"That one is way too big for our tiny house, baby," Agatha sighed.

"Okay, but at least one that isn't made of paper," he rebutted, pointing at Agatha's sad little drawing taped to the wall.

"You do know where paper comes from, don't you?" Agatha asked.

"Mama."

"Okay, fine," Agatha huffed. "We'll go to the tree farm in Eastview tomorrow, okay? Jeez."

"Thanks!" He pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek and all but skipped out of the room. Agatha bit back the smile until he was out of view, shaking her head in adoration.

Vidal's Trees was somehow still open on Christmas Eve, but the pickings were slim for trees by this point. Nicky held tightly to Agatha's hand as he dragged her around the lot, examining tree's with a severe gaze, circling them, sniffing them, feeling their branches. Agatha watched him, half-amused, as she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the New Jersey December chill. The sun was already going down and the temperature was dropping with it.

"Coffee?" Agatha turned to find a woman standing next to her, offering a steaming paper cup, a wry smile on her face. Agatha felt her cheeks warm at the other woman's presence. She was gorgeous, with medium-length, raven-black hair in a braid, wisps of hair coming out. She had several piercings in both ears and a stud on the right side of her nose. She wore a denim jacket with fur lining and a crocheted scarf sticking out with the lesbian pride flag colors (jackpot! a dumb voice in Agatha's mind supplied), and her dark jeans were tight and tucked into a pair of thick leather boots.

"It's free," the woman said when Agatha just stared at the offered cup. "Complimentary for customers. We also have hot chocolate." She nodded at Nicky, who was still circling the tree. "In the office over yonder." She nodded to a little cabin about twenty yards away.

"Yonder?" Agatha echoed, snorting as she finally accepted the cup. "I didn't know people said that this far north."

The woman smiled and shrugged. "My grandfather used to say it all the time," she said. "It kinda just stuck with me, I guess."

"It's cute," Agatha commented, taking a sip of the coffee. She sighed as the warmth spread through her. "Oh my Goddess, this coffee is amazing. What's in it?"

"Nothing special," the woman said, blushing slightly. "It's just some blend I get from the cafe I work at part-time. I just have a way with the coffee machine, I think."

"Well, if your touch with the hot chocolate is even remotely similar, I think my son would love some, if he ever decided on a tree, anyway." She looked at Nicky, who was testing the branches again. "Is this the one?" she asked, a little impatiently.

"I don't think so..." Nicky said, sounding disappointed. "There are a couple of bare spots and a lot of the branches are snapped. I don't think it would look very good in our house."

"Well, that's what we get for coming out last-second," Agatha sighed, offering an apologetic smile to the other woman. "Sorry to have wasted your time. How much do I owe you for the coffee?"

"Nothing," the woman said. "It's complimentary, remember?"

"For customers," Agatha said. "Based on the options you have left, I don't think we're going to be customers today."

In all honesty, the tree that Nicky had been considering was the best that Agatha could see. Everything else was either taken or worse off than this one was. She was doubtful that he'd be willing to take any of them home with him.

Pity. Maybe next year.

She pulled a couple dollar bills from her pocket and offered them to the raven-haired beauty, but the other woman refused to take them.

"Actually," she said, "I do have one more tree that you might want to see. Follow me."

She started walking away and Nicky immediately darted after her.

"Nicholas!" Agatha groaned, hastening to follow him without falling on her ass in the snow. She caught up to them closer to the cabin, following the two of them around the back of it.

Oh, great, a voice inside her head said, she's probably a murderer about to kill us in her shed. Well, I lived a good life, I guess.

"Here we are," the woman said, stopping just behind her cabin. There stood about four trees, in varying sizes, all in near-perfect condition. Seriously, if you looked up "Christmas tree" in the encyclopedia, there would be a picture of any one of these trees.

They were still rooted, too.

"They're perfect!" Nicky practically squealed, bouncing on his feet. "Can I pick any one of them?" he asked the woman, looking at her with his big brown eyes.

"It's up to your...mother?" She looked at Agatha. "I don't want to assume."

"Your assumption would be correct," Agatha said. "I am his mother."

"I'm sure your husband would approve of this one," the woman said.

Agatha wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. Nicky let out a laugh.

"Mama doesn't like boys!" he snickered. "And she's not married."

Her son, A+ wingman.

"Oh," the woman said, smiling at Agatha. "That's...interesting."

"Is it?" Agatha asked, her eyes flickering down to the scarf around the other woman's neck. She lifted her eyebrows pointedly. "Agatha, by the way." She offered her hand.

The other woman shook it with a toothy grin. She had the tiniest, most adorable gap in her front teeth. "Rio Vidal," she said.

"Of Vidal's Trees?" She let out a dramatic gasp. "I had no idea that I was in the presence of a local celebrity."

"Ha!" Rio said, shaking her head. "Hardly. My parents own this place. They're just down in San Juan for the winter, visiting family and whatnot. I've been tasked with wrapping business up for the season before I go join them in a couple weeks."

Agatha furrowed her brow. "You're alone for Christmas?" she asked, frowning. "That...sucks."

"Bad word!" Nicky exclaimed. "You owe me a dollar."

"You owe me your existence," Agatha huffed in return. He rolled his eyes. She smirked at him then turned back to Rio.

"It's fine," she said. "Christmas was never a huge event, anyway. It's always just been my parents and me. Dad can't really take the cold anymore, so once the temperature starts to drop into the teens, he heads south with my mom. I'm usually there by Christmas, but this year the earliest flight I could get was after New Year's. It's fine, though. Really. We'll celebrate the holidays, then."

"But won't Santa bring you presents still?" Nicky asked, looking genuinely concerned. "Don't your mommy and daddy want to see you unwrap them tomorrow morning?"

"I told Santa Claus to bring all my presents to their house in San Juan," Rio said, crouching to his height. "So I'll open all his gifts for me, just a little bit late. It's okay, though; I can wait."

Nicky still looked unsure. Then, he turned to his mother, tugging at her hand and motioning him down as Rio straightened up. Agatha offered Rio a bashful smile as she crouched down next to her son, letting him whisper in her ear.

"Can we invite her to our house for Christmas Eve?" Nicky whispered in Agatha's ear, making a blush bloom on her face so big that it reached the tips of her ears.

"Nicky..." Agatha whispered back, shaking her head.

"Please, Mama?" he begged, giving her those big brown eyes and his little pout and Good Goddess she had pretty much taught him that, hadn't she? Damn her.

Agatha took a deep breath, nodding as she stood, ignoring the protest in her knees as she did so.

"Rio," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as the other woman's warm gaze met hers, "would you like to join us for Christmas?"

Rio's eyes widened at that. "Oh," she said, a pretty pink spreading over her cheeks. "Um, that's really nice of you to offer, but you don't have to..."

"I insist," Agatha said, feeling Nicky tugging at her hand again. "So does he." She motioned to her son, who hit Rio with that same brown puppy dog stare of his. It proved lethal: Agatha watched as Rio melted under it, offering him a soft smile.

"Okay," she said. "If you insist. I would be happy to join you for Christmas."

"And Christmas Eve, too!" Nicky said. "We're having a party!"

Rio's eyes widened at that. "You are?" she asked.

Agatha took a deep breath, squeezing her son's hand back as she nodded. "We are. A few friends for dinner," she said. "Nothing special."

"We're playing Pictionary!" Nicky said. "Auntie Jen is super competitive! And Aunt Lilia makes really good cannolis!"

"You know," Rio said, smiling down at him, "I happen to love Pictionary and cannolis, so that sounds pretty great to me." She grinned up at Agatha, who smiled back softly. "If you don't mind, of course."

"I wouldn't have let him mention it if I did," Agatha said with a chuckle. "Here, let me get your number and I'll text you my address." She opened a 'New Contact' tab in her phone and offered it to Rio, who was visibly blushing. Agatha's face matched hers and she cleared her throat as their fingers brushed in the exchange.

Nicky watched them with a grin, squeezing his mother's hand a little. When Agatha looked down at him, she found his eyes twinkling. She made a face at him and he giggled, pressing his face into her side. She let go of his phone, running her fingers through his mop of hair.

"Here," Rio said. "Um, I can't wait until the party. I'm sure I'll kick Auntie Jen's butt at Pictionary," she said, looking down at Nicky, who giggled again.

Agatha smiled at the contact name for Rio ("Tree Girl") and sent a text with her address. There was a chime from Rio's pocket and she plucked out her phone, eyebrows lifting.

"Westview," she said, letting out a low whistle. "Fancy." She smirked up at Agatha. "I'll be there. Should I, uh, bring anything? Drinks, ice, food...a tree?" She nodded toward the four trees in her side yard.

"Oh," Agatha said, her eyes widening. "Right." She considered the four trees of varying sizes. "Um, that one might be the perfect size for our apartment, don't you think, Nicky?"

Nicky considered the second-smallest of the four trees, circling it like a dog looking for the perfect angle to lift his leg. Then he nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I think so. There are no bald spots."

"Perfect, then," Agatha said, turning back to Rio. "How much?"

"Don't worry about it," Rio said. "Consider it a gift."

"Seriously?" Nicky exclaimed, smiling wide. "Awesome!"

"No," Agatha said, looking between him and Rio. "No, we couldn't possibly - "

"Agatha," Rio said, stopping Agatha's words dead on her tongue, "you've just invited me - a stranger - to spend Christmas with you just so I, a grown woman, wouldn't be alone. It's the least I can do to repay you."

"You don't have to repay me," Agatha said. "Besides, it's Christmas; you do good deeds on Christmas, don't you?"

"Then this is my good deed," Rio said. "I got you a Christmas tree. Just say thank you and let me get my axe."

"Your...you're going to cut it down yourself?" Agatha asked, feeling her entire body go hot.

"Of course," Rio snorted. "Do you see anybody else here? How else was I going to get it out of the ground?"

"That is so cool," Nicky said, practically bouncing around in a circle.

Agatha stayed rooted to the ground - much like the four trees behind her - while Rio disappeared around the back of the house and came back seconds later wielding an axe. Her eyes were glued to the other woman as she went to work chopping down the tree, her fists clenching at her sides as many thoughts ran through her mind.

Thoughts she dared not say aloud. Thoughts that would make a stripper blush.

The tree fell to the snow with a muted thud as Rio wiped sweat from her brow, grinning when she caught Agatha still staring at her, a fervent flush on her cheeks. Agatha looked away when Rio met her eyes, clearing her throat.

Rio reached for the end of the tree, pulling it up to her shoulder and dragging it to where there were a bunch of coiled up ropes. Agatha continued to watch her as she tied the tree up, then lifted it like it was nothing, over her shoulder.

"Where's your car?" she asked, tucking some more ropes under her arm. Agatha motioned in the general direction of her car. "Lead the way," Rio said.

Agatha nodded, reaching for her son's hand and practically dragging him in the direction of their car, all while ignoring his knowing smirk as they trudged through the snow, Rio right next to them.

#agatha all along #agathario #agatha harkness #rio vidal #nicky harkness #christmas ficlet

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silent-stories · 2 years ago

Text

𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐅

Pairing: Eddie x F!Reader

Summary: Ever since Eddie sat next to you on the picnic bench outside his trailer you've become friends and you've grown closer and closer. He drives you to school, sneaks through your window almost every night and you hang out together, but when he realizes you'd be better off without Eddie 'the freak' Munson, he has to push you away and break your heart in the process. Will he realize his mistake is hurting both of you and fix things between you before it's too late?

Warnings: fluff, angst, parents fighting, drinking, language

Eddie watched you through his bedroom window as you stepped out of your trailer slamming the door behind you and sat on a picnic bench.

You ran a hand through your hair trying to keep it in place despite the wind that had picked up that afternoon and you raised a arm to protect yourself from the sun's rays hitting your face.

Eddie had never spoken to you before. He saw you every time you picked Henderson up after a D&D campaign (even though he complained that he was old enough to go home alone) and his gaze found himself a few too many times looking for you in the school cafeteria and in the hallways, but he never spoke to you.

It had become a habit to think that most of the students who were not within his social circle wanted nothing to do with him and he knew that you hanged out with Steve Harrington and his friends, so he assumed it was best to keep his distance even though Dustin said you were his friend and a good person first of all.

There were rumors that you were dating Harrington and Eddie sometimes thought that was really true, he was popular and rich and you were pretty and your smile could light up a whole room. Not that he ever paid any attention to your smile to know that.

He thought maybe it was kinda creepy but he couldn't stop looking at you when he noticed your hands playing nervously with each other as you kept your gaze downcast and fixed. Was everything okay?

Eddie turned down the volume of the metal music that was coming from the stereo on the desk, and that was probably also heard on the opposite side of Hawkings, in order to think.

If he came out to ask if you were okay would it just scare you and make it worse? Would you run away from the freak?

When you brought a hand to your mouth to bite your nails and your leg bouced at lightning speed he knew something was definitely wrong.

The idea that you were sitting waiting for him to come out to ask him to buy drugs crossed his mind, many of his customers had that nervous behavior before a deal.

He had to admit that if the first time you spoke to him it was to buy marijuana he would be disappointed, to say the least.

He finally turned off the radio and glanced at the leather jacket and denim vest resting on his bed and, realizing that it was too hot for those, and came out of the trailer with only an old black sabbath t-shirt and some overall trousers that he used to sleep in.

"Hey." Eddie announced his presence when there were only a few steps between you two.

Your head shot up and your gaze met a pair of kind brown eyes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." He raised the palms of his hands as if to show you that he meant you no harm.

"It's okay. You didn't." You moved on the bench, shifting to the right side.

Initially Eddie thought you were trying to increase the distance between you and him but then he realized you were making room for him to sit.

You wanted him to sit next to you.

He waited a moment, giving you time to reconsider, then took a seat next to you and your shoulders brushed as he did so.

"I…just wanted to ask if everything was okay. I saw you alone and it seemed like something was wrong but… you know what? It's stupid, you probably just wanted to be alone and I'm…" Eddie rambled.

Great, he thought, he was already embarrassing himself. It had to be a record.

"They're fighting." You interrupted him, pointing with your index finger to the trailer where you lived.

Only at that moment Eddie heard screams coming from inside. The voices belonged to a male and a female: your parents.

"I'm sorry." That was all he could say. But he was sincere, he knew what it felt like, he'd been there too.

"And I'm glad you're here now." One corner of your lips quirked up and Eddie swore he could have died right then.

“Actually, I came here because I heard music coming from your trailer. Usually it always manages to drown out their screams but this time they were right in front of my bedroom door so I went out. When I heard yours I thought getting closer would help."

You didn't even know why you were telling such private things to someone you barely knew but had a good feeling about him and decided to go with your gut.

"I discovered metal the same way." Eddie confessed, surprising even himself, he knew he didn't have to share such intimate parts of himself with people, parts that could be used against him one day. "When I was about eight and tired of hearing my parents fighting I turned on the radio hoping to find some kind of music loud enough to cover their voices . And I found metal so I did it."

Since that day Eddie had used metal to cover even the thoughts in his head but he decided to omit it.

You chuckled at the last part. "I'm sure metal could cover even a zombie apocalypse."

"Oh, I'm sure it could. I think I'll use this idea in the next D&D campaign." Eddie laughed.

"Please let Dustin win. Last time he sulked the entire ride because he was "dead"."

"Let him win? In Dungeons and Dragons you don't let someone win, you fight to the death if necessary! And he was a brave fighter." Eddie said in a solemn tone making you burst out laughing.

"I'll let him know."

When silnce fell between you and Eddie, you realized that you no longer heard the voices of your parents. "Finally."

"You'll see, things will get better." It didn't mean that because they never did for him, they didn't for everyone. He just wanted to let you know that you weren't alone.

You nodded. "Thank you, Eddie."

In that moment he realized that neither of you introduced themself to the other but you both knew your names. That you knew his name.

"I did nothing." Eddie shrugged as he glanced at his watch. "Shit, I'm late for practice."

"Practice?" You asked curious.

"Yeah, I'm in band, Corroded Coffin." Eddie said jumping off the bench.

"Band? Okay, you'll tell me about it next time, now go."

Next time.

You wanted to talk to him again.

You wanted to see him again.

"Alright, you sure you're okay?"

"I am, really. Thank you. Now go. I don't want you to be late because of me." You offered him a smile.

"Okay." He nodded "See you, then."

"See you."

Eddie looked at you one last time before disappearing behind the door of his house to get everything he needed, thinking that for the first time he wished he were still there talking to you instead of meeting the band.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

That morning when you woke up you found a note left by your mother saying that she had taken the car to go to a job interview and that meant no car to go to school.

You were walking to the nearest bus stop when you heard a voice calling your name.

"Hey, need a ride?"

A van pulled up next to you and Eddie leaned out the window.

"It's okay, I can walk."

Eddie wondered if you said it because you didn't want to disturb him or because you were afraid to lock yourself in the vehicle with him, fearing what he might do to you. But then he thought about the way your shoulders relaxed when he sat next to you on the picnic bench a few days before and the sound of your laugh when he said something stupid.

No, you weren't like that. For some weird reason you didn't seem to be afraid of him like like most of the school, and of Hawkings.

"Yeah, I think if you walk you'll get to school around eight... of tomorrow." He joked.

You laughed, he was probably right.

"C'mon." He said opening the passenger door.

"Thank you." You said sitting next to him as he restarted the engine.

"So... what do you play?" You asked after a few moments.

"What?"

"You said you're in a band. What do you play?" You asked again.

Eddie was amazed both that you remembered and that you wanted to know. The ghost of a smile appeared on his lips.

"What do you think I play?"

"Since I'm pretty sure you're James Hetfield's lost twin? I'll go with the guitar."

Eddie let out a laugh that he couldn't hold back this time. "Is that a compliment? I guess I'll take it as a compliment."

"Don't let it go to your head now."

When you got close enough to the school, Eddie parked the van and you both got out, walking side by side.

"I'm going to graduate this year, you know." Eddie said, talking both to himself and to you.

“If you start showing up to class a little more I'm sure you will. Because you know, we're in the same biology class but you haven't come once since the beginning of the year. The tracher thought there was a mistake with the names on the list."

Eddie rolled his eyes. "I don't like biology."

You glared at him.

"But I'll come, sooner or later."

Your glare only intensified.

"Okay, okay I'll come to biology soon. Really soon. Happy?"

"Yes, thank you." You laughed.

"I swear I'm really trying this year, it's my year. I feel it." He added.

As you walked closer and closer to the school, a boy and girl, probably a senior, passed you by. The girl glanced your way and said something in the boy's ear and he laughed without trying to hide it.

"Hey I....I think I forgot something in the van, see you soon okay?" Eddie said as he stopped walking.

"Uhm…okay. Is something wrong?" You furrowed your eyebrows trying to read his expression.

"Don't worry. Everything's fine, just forgot my cigs. See you, sweetheart."

With these last words he walked away again, heading in the direction from where you had come.

You didn't say anything wrong, right?

Only when Eddie was so far away that you couldn't see the red in his flannel anymore you realized he'd called you "sweetheart".

You honestly really liked the way it sounded.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

Eddie had suddenly left you because, after seeing the two students looking at you and then whisper and laugh to each other, he understood that it was not good for you to be seen around with him. He didn’t want people to find out you two were friends now.

Because that was what you were now, right? You had become friends.

He didn't want people to start spreading bad rumors about you too, you didn't deserve it and he didn't want it to be his fault.

As he was walking aimlessly a jock passed by him and although Eddie moved to increase the space between them, he still collided with Eddie on purpose.

"Hey, watch where you go, freak!" he yelled as he walked away.

That was exactly what Eddie was thinking about. He didn't want to condemn you and if they saw you hanging out with him people would start talking about you too and it was the last thing Eddie wanted to happen to one of the very few people who had been nice to him at school and in his whole life .

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It was night, but you couldn't sleep and you were reading a book lying on your bed by the light of your bedside lamp when you heard a noise.

Knock knock

You looked around, trying to locate the source of the noise.

Your eyes rested on the window.

Someone was knocking at the window of your room. You placed the book on the bedside table and opened the window, looking down as the cool night air hit your face to find Eddie Munson standing right under it.

"Hey, Y/N!" He said with a smile raising a hand to greet you as if it were a common thing to show up at that hour at someone's house.

"Jesus Christ, lower your voice. What are you doing here?"

"Is this how you greet your friends, Y/N?" He crossed his arms over his chest in mock offense.

"In my defense, it's almost 1a.m."

He rolled his eyes. "I'll be quick, I promise you."

"Eddie, what are you talking about-" You didn't have time to finish the sentence that he grabbed the edge of the window and climbed inside.

He sad on the border, resting his feet on the wooden floor of your room and you gave him a reproachful look. "You're really agile. Have you ever thought about joining the basketball team?"

"Oh, that hurt, Y/N. Watch your mouth or I could commit suicide right now." He replied by pointing to the void below him.

"If you jump down you'll break your arm at best, it's not worth it."

Eddie completely ignored your comment. "Who knew you had an Anthrax poster on your bedroom wall!" He commented as he looked around, realizing it was his first time in there, or in your house.

The trailers were all the same but Eddie liked how you decorated your bedroom.

His hair was tacky because of the way he got into your room and you resisted the urge to push it behind his ears.

"I really am a woman of a thousand secrets." You said "Come on, Eddie, why are you here? What do you want?"

What did he want? In fact, he wasn't sure either. He wanted to keep seeing you but he didn't want people to know about it. He wanted to keep hearing your voice and laugh without people starting bullying you or without making you loose your friends because of him. Honestly, he only came there because when he was with you he felt happy and safe and he wanted to see you even just for a few minutes but he had already thought of a credible and not entirely false excuse.

"Well, I was wondering if there was a chance you might have some notes on Shakespeare and if by any chance you'd be kind enough to let me copy it for a test I have in two days." He finished the sentence with a hopeful smile.

"Didn't you say you were going to start working hard and stuff?" You said looking for the english notebook in the backpack at the foot of the bed.

"I know and I'm sorry, I swear next-" He stopped when you pressed a few sheets of paper against his chest.

"Ohmygod, thank you!" He basically yelled, "You are the best, really."

"I said lower your voice, dumbass. If my mom finds out you're here, she'll kill both of us."

"She'll have to walk over my dead body to get to you."

"Well, I like you alive."

Eddie knew you were both joking and that the things you were saying didn't really matter but he loved that "I like you."

"I'll let you sleep now, okay? I'll give you everything back tomorrow, cross on my heart." He opened again the window and got ready to jump down.

You nodded. "It's okay."

"Goodnight sweetheart." he said before disappearing.

"Goodnight." you murmured, even if he was already gone.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It was a funny story, how you got in detention.

You were walking down the hallway on the way to your math class when you saw a cheerleader talking to Dustin.

Her name was Anne or Claire maybe, you didn't remember and you didn't care but Dustin didn't seem too happy to hear what she was saying.

"Do you know what happens to kids who are part of satanic cults? I tell tou, they are sacrificed." She laughed.

"I've told you a hundred times, I'm not in a cult and..."

"I'm sure that's what that freak made you believe."

"Okay, enough. Don't you have a class to go to?" You interrupted her.

"Oh, but we were just having a friendly conversation."

"It didn't look like one. Now we have to go." You said putting a hand on Dustin's back and starting to walk away.

"You know, there are rumors that you're dating him. The freak." The girl's voice made you stop.

You turned around.

"I am. And it's not your problem." And with that you left.

"Is that true? Are you going out with Eddie? He's always talking about you." Dustin asked.

"We're friends. I like him but we are not dating."

A toothy smile appeared on Dustin's face.

During cheerleading practice that afternoon, Claire-Anne-whoever feel and hit her face on the floor. The next day at school, everyone was talking about the bruise on her cheekbone was caused by you hitting her.

"I didn't do anything." You defend yourself in front of the principal.

“So how do you explain her bruise?” He crossed his arms over his chest.

"She fell cartwheeling because she sucks, it's not my fault."

"She told the whole school you hit her."

"Because she's a bitch too."

And with that you earned your detention. Maybe it wasn't such a funny story after all.

It was unfair, but at least you were with Eddie. With Eddie -if-I-smoke-in-the-bathroom-no-one-will-catch-me Munson.

"I know you didn't hit her." Eddie whispered trying not to be heard by the teacher who was supposed to monitor you during the hours of detention.

"And I know you were definitely smoking in the bathroom." You replied.

"You have so little faith in me?" He brought a hand to his chest.

"No, but I know you well enough to know you were smoking in the bathroom."

"Silence." The teacher stepped in.

After a few minutes you spoke again. "I can go to the bathroom?"

The teacher glared at you.

"If you want, I'll pee in the bin."

"Go."

You left the classroom and after a few seconds Eddie spoke again.

"Can I go get something from the snak machine outside?"

The teacher looked up from the book he was reading.

"No."

"I'm hungry. And if you don't let me go, I'll have to drink your blood."

She stared at him for a moment.

"Go. Quick."

Eddie left the class but before he could reach the dispenser, you caught up with him.

"The window in the bathroom is open." You whispered.

"I think it's because of the smell."

"No, I mean we can leave."

Eddie stared at you for a second, weighing your idea.

"Let's go." You said grabbing his arm and heading towards the girls' bathroom.

Eddie offered his hand as you put your feet up on the toilet and reached the window. His hand was warmer than you expected and his rings didn't feel cold against your skin.

When you jumped to the other side, Eddie did the same right after you.

"And here you go. Freedom." You said spreading your arms outwards.

"Who knew Y/N was a criminal." Eddie laughed as you walked away from the school.

"Oh, I'm not. I did it because my punishment was unfair. But yours..."

"Oh, shut up."

You laughed. "Okay."

Eddie drove you home in his van, which was becoming a habit by now.

"Thank you." You said when you arrived.

"She doesn't seem happy." Eddie said pointing to a figure just outside your trailer.

Your mom was waiting for you with her arms crossed and her face more than pissed.

"She never is. It's okay. Thanks for the ride, Ed." You said as he got out of the car.

"Where were you?" Your mom asked.

"With a friend."

She glanced at Eddie. "Is that your friend?"

"Any problem?"

"Yes, he's the problem. Have you seen him? He looks like a criminal."

You rolled your eyes. "You don't know him."

"I wish you didn't either."

"I say that agin, you don't know him. Stop judging, he's sweet."

You finally got in and Eddie could no longer hear your conversation.

Great, your mom didn't like it. It wasn't weird, Eddie was disliked by almost everyone.

He thought back to what you said: "he's sweet". It was the last word Eddie would describe himself with, but what if you said it? It would probably be the only thing he thought about for days.

Despite this though, the words "I wish you didn't either" and "He looks like a criminal" also stuck in his mind.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"You're lucky I wasn't sleeping." You commented as Eddie jumped into your room and you closed the window behind him.

Eddie was sneaking into your room at least once a week now, and you liked being used to it, although since your mom told you she didn't want you to see Eddie, you both had to be careful not to get caught.

Eddie still thought about your mom's words, maybe it was better if he started seeing you less, to cause you less problems, but then he always found himself in your room almost every night.

"You can say that you wait up for me every night, you know?" He laughed as he adjusted his leather jacket.

You rolled your eyes as you sat on the edge of the bed and Eddie stopped in front of you. "Is there a reason you're here or you just wanted to spend some time with your amazing friend right here?"

"Actually," he said, pulling a crumpled piece of paper out of the pocket of his black jeans, "I wanted to show you this."

He handed it to you and you took it in your hads.

"Did you find it in the trash by any chance?" You joked.

"Oh c'mon. Open it and see."

When you did, you saw a lot of calculations and writing in black pen and, at the top, inside a red circle there was a "B-".

A smile formed on your lips.

"Hey, that's amazing!" You exclaimed before remembering that your parents were asleep and shouldn't have known someone was with you.

Eddie covered your mouth with his hand. "Jesus Christ, I think not only your parents heard you but the whole neighborhood as well."

"Some manners, man." You laughed after you swiped his hand away from his face pretending you didn't like the feel of his skin against yours. "And don't worry, they are deep sleepers."

"So?" He asked moving his gaze between the sheet of paper and you, hopefully staring at you with his big brown eyes, waiting for an answer.

"I'm proud of you." You said and a huge grin appeared on Eddie's face.

You knew that he no longer had his parents and that probably not many people told him that they were proud of him and his achievements so that had become your job.

He sat on your bed talking for a while until you heard footsteps in the hallway and Eddie had to leave in a hurry.

"Be careful." You recommended as he sat on the edge of the window.

"Don't worry. I'm like a cat, I have nine lives." He said as he got ready to jump.

"A cat? I've always seen you more as a raccoon or maybe a bat."

He laughed shaking his head. "See you tomorrow, sweetheart."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Hey, freak!" Jason Carver walked up to Eddie in the hallway.

He huffed. "What do you want again?"

"I heard you have a girlfriend now." He teased him.

Eddie furrowed his eyebrows.

"I'm talking about Y/N."

"She's not-"

"You know, she used to be cool. But now? Hanging out with people like you? Not anymore. I hope she realizes her mistake soon, before she becomes like you."

That was what Eddie was afraid of. People could be really mean and he didn't want them to be mean to you just because you were his friend.

A voice called Jason from afar and, after one last look, he walked away.

Eddie found himself standing in the hallway whitout knowing what to do.

He knew it was better for you if you stopped seeing each other but he didn't want to lose you.

He had never found himself in a similar situation, usually people stayed away from him and now, when he finally found someone kind and nice, who treated him like a human being, like a friend, he felt the need to push her away.

The universe really hated him.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Wayne?" Eddie sat down on the couch next to him, "I need to ask you something and you have to be honest with me."

Wayne looked up at his nephew. "What did you do this time?"

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Nothing, I didn't do anything. I just have to ask your opinion about something."

Wayne remained silent, trying to figure out what was going on.

"If you knew someone...and you liked them, really liked them and if they were nice to you and you loved the sound of their laugh and the way your shoulders brushed when you walked next to each other, and just seeing them for five minutes in the morning would make your day a good day... but you knew that they would be better off without you, what would you do?"

"Okay, Eddie what's going on?"

"Nothing, really. Answer please?"

"I'd tell them. That they'd be better off without me. Or I'd make up an excuse. And then I'd walk away from their life. But only if I'm really sure they would be happier without me."

Eddie swallowed. He expected this answer but hearing it so directly was different.

Now he just had to follow his advice.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You knew that something was wrong as soon as Eddie jumped down the window and entered your room: the usual smile he had every time he saw you was completely absent.

"Hey, what's going on?" You asked sitting cross-legged on your bed as he sat on the edge next to you after taking off his shoes, as he used to.

"Nothing, I just wanted to see you." He murmured as he stared straight ahead, playing with his hands in his lap. His body was tense and stiff.

He'd come intending to tell you that you should stop seeing each other but as soon as he saw you he knew he couldn't even if he tried to vomit the words out of his mouth.

The desire to punch the wall in frustration was immense.

He had to do it, he had to do it to protect you, he had to do it for your mom, for the students at school and for the rest of Hawkings.

"Something is definitely wrong." You commented again.

He shook his head.

He didn't think it would be that hard, the words "I can't see you anymore" or "we should stop hanging out" weren't complicated, yet he felt like something was blocking his throat and stopping his voice from coming out.

"Eddie" You said placing a hand on his knee "I know you well enough to see when something is wrong and-"

"Can I hug you?"

His words surprised you.

"Eddie, what-"

"Please."

He sounded just like a scared little kid. What the hell happened?

You wrapped your arms around his neck and pushed him against you, you immediately felt his arms enveloping you and his hands squeezing the fabric of your shirt as if he didn't you'd disappear, as if his life depended on it.

"I don't know what happened, Eddie. But I'm here." You whispered.

"I know." Not for long, he thought.

You left a kiss on his cheek while your hand caressed the side of his face.

"Do you want to stay?"

Eddie wanted to stay there with you for the rest of his life.

"I can't."

"C'mon, just one night. My parents won't find out. You'll leave in the morning."

Eddie decided that the next day he would say goodbye once and for all, so he might as well enjoy the last moments with you.

"Okay." He said.

You pulled down the blanket and lay down on the bed, he immediately after you.

He rested his head on the pillow and turned his head towards you, his face only inches from yours. "Are you sure you want me to stay?"

"I'm sure." You said first turn off the light - as Eddie took off the rings and placed them on your bedside table - and curl up next to Eddie, your back pressed against his chest.

You heard Eddie move slightly.

"Y/N, can I-?"

"You can." You muttered before feeling his arm wrap around your waist and push you even closer to him.

You placed your hand on his and he buried his face in your hair, breathing a sigh of relief as if being close to you would ease some kind of pain.

"Goodnight sweetheart." You heard him murmur as he left a kiss on your head.

"Goodnight Eddie."

You were already sleeping when a tear silently crossed Eddie's cheek and fell on your pillow.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

When you opened your eyes, the first light of day filtered through the window.

Eddie's arm was no longer around you. You turned to find him sitting on the edge of the bed, you could only see his back, his unkempt hair and the shape of his shoulder blades.

"Hey, good morning." You mumbled.

"I don't want to see you anymore."

"What?" You sat up on the bed, the sheet slipped off your body.

"I don't want to see you anymore. We should stop going out and stuff." He stood up.

"Eddie, what the hell are you talking about?"

"It's just...it doesn't work." He gestured between the two of you, "this isn't working."

"Are you saying that because you slept here? I asked you to stay because you're my friend and I care about you and-"

"No, it's just…I have more important things to do than hang out with you, okay? That's all." He slipped on his shoes as if what he was saying mattered in the slightest.

You shifted the sheets and got out of bed, your feet tracing the cold floor, following Eddie. "That's all? Eddie, I thought we…that there was something."

"You thought wrong. Now I gotta go." He opened the window and sat on the edge.

"Eddie, wait." He jumped off.

You stared at the window curtains moving in the wind.

It was not possible. It wasn't possible that he was suddenly no longer interested in you. That he didn't care anymore.

You looked around, suddenly your room was too big and too empty.

You sat at the foot of the bed and brought your knees up to your chest, burying your head in your arms as you started getting a weird feeling in your stomach and chest.

You thought back to his firm tone and impassive face as he spoke.

It wasn't possible that he didn't care about you anymore.

Right?

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

About a week later you were pretty sure Eddie didn't give a shit about you anymore.

You'd been waiting like a stupid every night in your room, staring at the window and hoping to see him come in. You had hoped that he would come and talk to you in the corridor or at least say hello.

Nothing.

He had also stopped showing up at biology class.

You kept thinking that there must be a reason that caused this sudden change in his behavior but you couldn't find one.

And, even though it had only been a week since you last spoke to him, you missed him.

You missed knowing that he was there if you needed, you missed talking to him, his jokes. You missed his chocolate brown eyes and his smile.

You missed the way he always opened his van door to let you in and you missed his "sweetheart".

"Okay, what happened?" Dustin asked as he got into your car.

"What?"

"Eddie. Have you two had a fight or something?" He asked.

Did you have a fight? You didn't even know it.

"I... no, I don't think so."

"You don't think so?"

"Dustin, I don't know. Maybe I did something to piss him off. Last week he told me he didn't want to see me anymore and then he stopped talking to me or saying hello or… remembering I existed."

Dustin furrowed his eyebrows. "Weird, this is weird even Eddie. I'll talk to him about it."

"No." You hastened to say. "It was his decision. If that's what he wants, then that's fine."

"And do you think this is what he wants? In just one week he got a D in history and an F in math and the last campaign was a total disaster. A game of cards would have been more interesting and with Eddie, D&D is always amazing. That's not what he wants, he doesn't want to live a life that you're not in, believe me. There's got to be something going on."

You huffed. "I was getting used to having Eddie in my life. It was... it was nice."

Dustin smiled slightly at your words. "I'll try to figure out what's going on."

"Thank you, kid."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

It had been days, Dustin still hadn't made Eddie talk and you felt more and more like a part of you was missing with him too.

The worst thing was that you couldn't hate him, even if you wanted to.

At 2am you were still staring at your bedroom window as if Eddie might appear at any moment.

"You're so stupid, Y/N." You talked to yourself as you finally made up your mind to get into bed and try to sleep.

In that moment, the phone on your nightstand rang.

Who the hell was calling at 2am?

You sat on the edge of the bed and picked up the phone.

"Y/N..."

"Eddie?"

"Hey." He only said two words, but you already knew something was wrong with his voice.

"Eddie, you're drunk." It wasn't a question, you just knew it.

He paused. "I'm sorry."

You didn’t know if he was sorry for the way he had been treating you for the past few weeks, if he was because he was calling you in the middle of the night or because he was drunk.

"What do you want, Eddie?" The question came out in a harsher tone that you wanted to.

"I know you hate me. You... you have every right to." he said, slurring.

"But?"

"But you're the only person who can give me a ride home right now. You're the only one I know who would."

"What makes you think so?"

"Because you are like that. You...you care about people. And I know the way I treated you…it was awful and you probably hate me but I…I need you now."

"Why?"

"What?"

"Why don't you want to see me anymore?"

Silence.

"Eddie?"

"Please, can you pick me up?"

He didn't even answer your question. All he cared about was a ride home.

He was acting like an ass, you should have hung up after telling him to go fuck himself, that he couldn't ignore you all that time and then only called you when he needed you.

But a part of you also wanted to tell him that you missed him like air and that it scared the shit out of you.

"Y/N?" His voice brought you back to reality, he was still waiting for an answer.

"You know what? That... that was stupid. I shouldn't have called you. I'm sorry... about everything." he muttered. "You don't have to come, I...I'll wait here. Can you...can you just talk? I...I miss the sound of your voice."

If he really missed you he wouldn't treat you like that. Right?

"Are you still there?"

You huffed, you were about to do a very stupid thing.

"Eddie."

You heard his sigh of relief in hearing your voice saying his name again.

"Where are you?"

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You parked outside the bar and got out of your car.

Eddie was sitting on the ground, under the neon with the name of the place, near the phone booth he'd called you from.

He had remembered your number even though he was drunk, you thought as you walked in his direction.

Only a few voices were coming from the bar talking, Eddie hadn't gone to some kind of party and drank too much, he had gotten drunk sitting alone in the corner of a small bar away from the city centre.

"Get up."

Eddie raised his head. "You really came." He said surprised.

His breath stank of alcohol and his eyes were red.

"I said, get up." You grabbed his arm and pulled him up.

Eddie staggered dangerously and you placed a hand on his chest to keep him from falling.

"Jesus Christ." he muttered.

You let him wrap his arm around your shoulders and led him to your car, then sat next to him.

You leaned your head back on the seat with a weary sigh, staring at the club lights ahead of you.

When you felt like you were being watched, you turned your head towards Eddie to find him staring at you with his bloodshot eyes.

"What?" You asked.

"You are so pretty."

You shook your head. "And you are so drunk."

"Both true."

You sighed again. "What the fuck is going on Eddie? First you ignore me for weeks, then you call me in the middle of the night because you're drunk and tell me that..."

"I'm sorry. I did it for a reason I... I can't explain."

You let out a cold laugh. "Yes, of course. Of course."

You started the car.

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

"Here we are." You said parking halfway between your trailer and his. "Is your uncle at home?"

Eddie shook his head and searched all the pockets of his leather jacket for the key, only to find it in his jeans.

You grabbed it and got out of the car followed by Eddie who, a little unsteady, took a few steps.

"I live here?" He asked.

"God, how much the fuck did you drink?" You asked yourself more than him as you placed a hand on his back and ushered him into the trailer after opening the door with the key.

When you reached his room, Eddie dropped onto the bed, sitting up with his back against the wooden headboard.

His room was messy, the walls were full of posters and the floor could hardly be seen from the amount of things scattered around. You kinda liked it.

"I feel like my head is about to explode." He said closing his eyes.

"You're probably bleeding internally and will die within hours."

He opened one eye.

"I'm joking." You huffed.

"Look, I'm leaving now and I guess you'll just pretend this never happened and-"

Eddie grabbed your hand. Not squeezing it, his touch was soft and you could have escaped if you wanted.

But you didn't.

"Don't go." he whispered.

"Eddie-"

"Please."

"I'm not going to stay here knowing you'll be ignoring me again tomorrow. Because that's what you're going to do, right?" You asked, already knowing the answer.

He stared at you without saying anything.

"Exactly."

Before you could pull away, he wrapped his arm around your waist and pushed you onto the bed, making you sit next to him.

"Eddie-"

"Youre so pretty." He repeated.

"You already said that."

"Because it's true."

You sighed. "Eddie, I really want to know what's going on between us but you seem to want to keep it a secret."

His hand found yours again and he absentmindedly played with your fingers as you spoke. He must have drunk really a lot.

"I can't." he muttered.

"Why?"

He shook his head.

You suddenly grabbed his face with your hands.

"Tell me you hate me."

"What?"

"Tell me you hate me and that's why you don't want to see me anymore."

He shook his head again as you ran your thumb along his cheek.

"Then why? Why do you want to stay away from me? I thought you were mad at me, I thought you did something to piss you off but now...now I don't know anymore."

As usual, he didn't answer. His big dark eyes stared at yoy, his face was a few inches away from yours.

"I wish I could kiss you, right now." he whispered.

You've repressed the urge to lean forward and bring your lips together.

"And I wish you were sober."

You placed a hand on his chest and pushed him away.

You walked out of his room without looking back, knowing that if you did you wouldn't be able to leave.

The only thing you were sure of was that your thoughts were even more confused than that morning.

He didn't want to see you? He liked you? He hated you? He wanted to kiss you? He couldn't explain what was going on?

You entered your house being as careful as possible not to make noise, you got into your room and you dropped on the bed , staring at the ceiling not knowing what to do.

You sighed. "Shit."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

The next day, Eddie wasn't at school. The cafeteria was too quiet when he wasn't there.

"Eddie won't talk to me about it." Dustin said when he saw you in the hallway.

"He doesn't seem to want to tell anyone about it." You commented closing your locker.

"What do you mean?"

"We... met. But he wouldn't tell me what his problem is."

You didn't want to explain in detail what happened and you didn't want to tell Dustin that Eddie was drunk.

"I hope you resolve whatever is between you soon."

You looked at Eddie's locker across the hall, the one he hardly ever used because he never brought his books to school. Someone had spray-canned the word "freak" over it.

And in that moment you realized why Eddie had acted that way, why he had pushed you away: he was afraid that people would start treating you the way he did if you got close to him.

You'd been a stupid not to realize that before.

And he'd been a stupid to think you cared a shit about that.

"Yeah, I hope so too."

════ ⋆★⋆ ════

You hadn't called Eddie on the phone because you wanted to talk to him in person and when you came home from school it was pouring with rain, so you had decided that before class started the next day you would go to him and talk.

But that evening, someone knocked on your door.

"I'm going!" You yelled at your parents in the other room.

You opened the door to find Eddie wet from head to toe waiting in silence.

"Eddie?"

"Hi, I…I need to talk to you." He brushed a strand of hair dripping from his face.

"Great, I have to do it too. Come in."

"No, I'll be quick. And your parents are at home, I don't think I can get in."

You huffed. "I can' decide who I want to see."

"I'll be quick." He repeated.

"Okay." You finally said, stepping into the rain and closing the door behind you.

"No, wait-"

"Tell me everything."

Eddie watched as the rain began to fall on you and wet your hair and clothes.

All that just to talk to him.

Sometimes he thought you were crazier than him.

"First of all, I'm sorry." He started. "I wanted to protect you. I thought you'd be better off without me in your life you know? Without Eddie 'the freak' Munson. I thought people would start talking shit about you and I didn't want them to start treating you like they treat me. I didn't want them too gave you a stupid nickname, and I didn't want your friends to leave you just because of me, just because you were my friend. I didn't want your parents to get mad at you for dating me. Hell, I didn't want to ruin the your life and I thought the best thing to do was to tell you that I didn't want to see you anymore, even if that hurt me like hell."

"Eddie, I couldn't care less what people think of me." You said taking a step closer to him as thunder rumbled in the distance. "I never cared. I only cared about you because I like you since you sat next to me on that bench because you knew something was wrong just by looking at me."

"What if you lose your friends because of me?" He asked.

"They weren't real friends then."

"What if people start making things up about you?"

"Eddie, stop it."

"What if your parents get upset and-"

"What if we start hanging up again?" You interrupted him, "What if you start taking me to school in the morning and visiting me at night? What if we do another horror movie marathon in my room when everyone is asleep and you let me hold your hand even if you know I'm not scared? What if we just stay together? What if I tell you that I've missed you? That I still miss you and that I still need you in my life?

What if I tell you that I like you, that I love you because you are you and I don't care what people might say about you about us. What if-"

You gasped when his lips met yours, when he brought his hands to your cheeks and his thumbs brushed away the raindrops as he kissed you.

He tasted like smoke. And home.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, for everything." he whispered.

"It's okay, I think I like you anyway." You chuckled before pulling him back to you.

That was the night you kissed Eddie Munson in the rain and that was the night you showed him that it didn't matter what people thought about you as long as you had eachother.

#eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie x y/n #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munosn fanfic #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie nunson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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margotw10bis · 11 months ago

Text

Crashing On Crush.JJK 7 [m]

crush!Jungkook x reader

Genre: smut; series; romance; angst

Words: 4.6k

Synopsis: What happens when your first encounter with your crush is Jungkook seeing your ass?

Warnings: sexual tension; broken heart; Calvin Klein JK (yeah, it's a warning)

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As much as you hate it, you do find Jungkook handsome and your heart has been pounding as soon as you noticed him. And you hate that you missed him - the last time you saw him was two weeks ago in the club. You are surprised to see him but also to see he has cut his hair. You can't help but missing his puffy shoulder-length hair and you want to slap you in the face for that thought. His black locks are now shorter in a mullet-style hair cut with a bang and are lightly curled. But gosh, he looks good. A little too good for your heart's sake.

You forget to how to breath when Jungkook stops a few meters from you. You feel your cheeks burning as well as your whole body and it's not because of the hot and suffocating July of Seoul because the A/C is on inside the art gallery. It's definitely because of Jeon Jungkook, the devil manifesting in a handsome man figure.

"Hi, uhm, I have an appointment with Aecha" He says after clearing his throat

"Follow me"

Even if you invite him to walk with you, it looks like you want to run away from him. Fortunately, you quickly arrive to Aecha's office. You knock and enter, Jungkook by your side. Your colleague offers him a way better smile than you.

"Jungkook, hi! Nice to meet you in person! We are so happy to work with you" Aecha's voice is warm and magically relaxes Jungkook

"Same here"

He tries to sound cheerful. He is really happy and proud that the gallery has approached him for the project, it will surely help him for his career but he does feel tensed to see you. He can't deny he hesitated to accept the job but then he saw it as an opportunity to set the record straight with you. He has been so grumpy that even Mina has stopped asking for his attention and let him work in his office at home. Jungkook has imagined hundred of scenarios of what happened between you and the guy after you left and every single one of them ended with you in his arms. By anger and frustration, he even broke his Apple Pencil and had to buy a new one.

"I am so sorry but I don't have time to talk details with you personally" Aecha continues, genuinely annoyed "But don't worry, Y/N is very professional and I'm sure you'll get along"

Your eyes widen and you throw distraught gazes at Aecha. 'Please, don't make me do that!' You silently beg her. But she doesn't get it or chooses to ignore it as she hands you the file. You do know the artists and the theme of the exhibition, as well as other details about the events related but you don't want to work with Jungkook. You know he is supposed to provide different visuals and supports, which means that you are going to deal with him for days. You're not sure your heart can handle it and you fear your determination to hate him will fail you - to be true, it has already began when he first appeared in the lobby.

Yet, you have no choice but to take the damn file with shaky hands and ask Jungkook to follow you in the meeting room.

A feeling of pain and jealousy fills you when you realize that his girlfriend has got to see him everyday and you have no doubt that he has looked damn hot every single day of these two weeks. Even now, in front of you, he is ridiculously handsome in his matching Calvin Klein denim jacket and pants, a white t-shirt finishing his perfect look. You can't help but wondering if his underwear is also signed CK, which makes you blush. Jungkook is fucking hot like that - would you dare to say that you are aroused by the absence of his usual all-black style?

You shake your head to erase those filthy thoughts and you sit down. You open and read the file, which gives you a good excuse to not look at Jungkook.

"Did you sleep with him?"

Jungkook's voice is neutral despite his pounding heart. He couldn't help but ask you. Even if it breaks his already broken heart, he has to know. His look-the-other-way part argues that if he knows, it'll get easier to let you go.

You immediately look up and open your mouth but no sound escapes it. Just by seeing you blushing hard, Jungkook knows. His fists clench and he is angry. Not at you, but at himself. You left with another man, you slept with another man because he pushed you away. He tries to convince himself that the pinch in his heart is due to his bruised man pride but deep down he knows that it's his feelings for you that have been rattled.

"It's none of your business" You eventually decide to answer "Let's not get personal and stick to a professional behavior"

Jungkook doesn't say anything but nods, poking on his inner cheek with his tongue.

Weirdly enough, you both concentrate on work and are able to have a peaceful conversation. Some details are discussed and Jungkook notes some ideas that get through his mind while you give him more informations.

"Can I see the art pieces? It'll help to get fully in the right mood" Jungkook asks at some point

"Sure"

You both walk through the art gallery and you can see that Jungkook truly appreciates the architecture of the building. You see his doe eyes sparkle with inspiration and you can practically see all the ideas that are currently filling his brain. Witnessing his passion melts your heart.

You enter the code of the storage room and motion Jungkook to step in. You explain that you haven't receive yet all the pieces but you add that he can look at them of the website of the gallery. His back facing you, a sketchbook and a pen in his hands, he is already quickly sketching a few visuals. You are quite intrigued by how fast his brain works and you move forward gingerly. You stand on your tiptoe to look upon his large shoulder and sneak on his sophisticate drawings.

"Wow" You whisper, almost in his ear, unintentionally

Jungkook was so focus on his work that he didn't notice you, but when you opened your mouth he startles and turns his head to your face suddenly. You are so close that your breathes are mixing. His eyes look right into yours but can't help going down to yours pretty lips. He gulps, a vivid memory of your several passionate kisses coming to his mind. He knows how you taste and he is dying to feel it again on his tongue. He wets his pierced lips with his tongue and the move attracts your glance too. A spontaneous wave of arousal goes straight to your lower belly.

Thankfully - or not -, staying this long on your tiptoe causes a cramp in your left calf. You immediately step back and wince, holding on the painful leg.

"What's going on?" Jungkook asks you, alarmed

"Cramp" You hiss

It doesn't take long to Jungkook to kneel down and massage your lower leg. You blush hard but convince yourself that it's due to the pain and not to Jungkook's warm palms on your skin. But why do you mentally praise you for wearing a yellow wrap dress and not your usual slacks?

"It's okay, you don't have to-" You speak up, weakly trying to push his hands away

"Let me do that for you"

His eye is so intense that you only manage to gulp and nod, letting Jungkook rubbing your calf to relax the muscles. You hiss as his fingers palp your aching leg, instinctively grabbing on his large shoulders to not fall. Feeling your hands on him, even through the thick fabric of his denim jacket and under this circumstances, Jungkook feels good. So fucking good. His whole body, that has been tensed for weeks now, softens under your touch. It's like he was physically missing something that your hands give him back. Someway, it's the first time you wish your cramp was lasting longer.

"It's gone" You say unsurely and, with regret from both sides, Jungkook stands up

"I'm sorry-"

"Don't. Please don't" You close your eyes in pain, not willing to remember once again what he did because you surely didn't forget

You hate him for breaking your heart but you don't hate him. Quite the opposite actually. You still love him, so fucking much. You can't change the past and you surely can't be best friend with him but you can make this professional relationship work. You want it for the gallery but also for Jungkook because you still think he is very talented and deserves the contract. That's why you take a deep breathe and start talking:

"Look, I know things have been... weird between us. Let's just put that aside and concentrate on work. I really want to feel good here so let's not make things more awkward. I think it would be nice if we could be colleagues"

Jungkook looks at you for a moment, surprised. He doesn't really know what to say when there are so many things that he wants to say - if that makes any sense. He runs a hand through his fresh cut hair.

"I'll work hard then, for you"

He doesn't specify if 'you' refers to the gallery and all your colleagues and artists involved or just you. But your heart doesn't care about the difference and skips a beat. You try to put a - weird - smile on your face to look relax.

"Welcome onboard then, Mr. Jeon"

————

Day 2 of working with Jungkook and you have to say that you are surprised how things go smoothly. You and Jungkook really get along - on a professional level - and your two brains seem to share the same ideas and vision of the project.

When he went home, Jungkook went straight to his home office and started sketching some visuals. On the one hand, he wants to work slowly only to get the chance to spend more time with you. But on the other hand, he has so many ideas for the different supports. The project clearly excites him and he hasn't been this motivated for a long time. Moreover, your cute yellow dress of the day seemed to be another reminder that you are like sunshine is his life and that everything looks better when you are around.

This morning, he has joined you in the same meeting room and gave you a cup of latte - he knows it's your favorite beverage - that he has bought on its way to the gallery. The sweet gesture didn't go unnoticed by your weak heart and your cheeks did redden. As soon as you two have sat down, Jungkook put his sketchbook and graphic tablet on the desk and explained the different concepts. You were so impressed by his work and how much he has done in just one evening. You couldn't help but being worried that he had not slept well and the dark circles under his beautiful eyes proved you no wrong.

You don't even notice it was lunch time until you hear a knock on the door. You look up and meet a sweet and cute familiar face.

"I didn't want to bother you but I've been waiting for fifteen minutes so I thought that you might have forgotten me"

Jongseob seems embarrassed and is blushing hardly. Your heart immediately melts and your smile widens. This doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook who wonders how many men have stolen your heart. He can't help but feeling jealous. When will his possessiveness stop? Especially when you're not his.

"It's okay. Actually, I lost track of time. Please come in, Seobi"

You get up and give a big hug to Jongseob. The young man is quite impressed by Jungkook. His black outfit has returned and his tattoos are showing up under his oversize t-shirt. He does look intimidating and Jongseob feels a wave of protectiveness towards you, hoping that the stranger didn't give you a hard time.

You have no idea of what is going on in Jongseob's brain and you turn back to Jungkook.

"Let's meet up in two days so you have time to make the changes we've talked about. Then, we will show everything to Aecha" You say with a smile and Jungkook simply nods.

You notice the way he is staring at your young friend and realize that they don't know each other.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't introduce you-" You are cut off by Jongseob

"I'm Kim Jongseob"

You are surprised by his confident and quite cold tone. It's so not like him. You even feel his arm easily wrapping around your shoulders. When did he get this tall? You look at him, asking him with your eyes what the hell he is doing. But Jongseob is completely focus on the black-hair man.

"Jeon Jungkook"

Jongseob's eyes widen and immediately turn to you. Your face expression confirms what he thinks: it's the man who broke your heart. If you didn't say a word on your Graduation Day, you couldn't lie when a few days later Jongseob has asked you about how it went when you confessed your feelings to your crush. Even if you tried really hard to not cry in front of him, you couldn't stop a few tears. Jongseob was so heartbroken for you and has spent the day with you at your place, eating ice-creams and watching Disney movies.

The body of your usual so cute friend tenses immediately and he leaves your shoulders to step in front of you, protectively. His eyes narrow when he gazes at Jungkook.

"I hope he hasn't done anything to you" He says with his jaw clenched, talking to you but looking at Jungkook

A scoff escapes Jungkook's lips. Who the hell is this kid? He doesn't know anything about him and yet, he is judging him. Only if he knew that at his age, Jungkook was... No, it's better if he doesn't know, otherwise you would know too. And he surely doesn't want you to know.

"Jongseob" You say softly, a hand on his shoulder "Jungkook is working with me, everything is fine"

"Can't someone else deal with him? Why it has to be you?" His voice is more gentle now and he is looking at you, finally

"No, and it's okay. I promise"

"What are you going to do about it, uh?"

Your eyes widen in surprise while Jungkook smirks and then pokes his tongue in his inner cheek in a provocative way. He doesn't even know why he opened his mouth in the first place. Maybe he was just tired of everyone treating him like shit or maybe he wanted you to know that your little guy couldn't compete with him. 'Stupid fucking ego' he thinks.

"What did you say?" Jongseob responds aggressively, taking a step further and Jungkook does the same

"I said, what are you fucking going to do about it?" Jungkook articulates each single word, his jaws clenched

You start to panic and take place between the two men.

"Stop it now, the both of you" You try to be firm but your voice is a little shaky

"You were right, he's a fucking asshole" Jongseob goads

"What did you say?" Jungkook barks this time, ready to throw punches in this little fucker's face

"Jongseob!" You shout "Go wait outside, now"

You are so tensed that your whole body is shaking with adrenaline. What are you going to do if they start fighting? But you release the air of your lungs when Jongseob does as you say. You look at Jungkook to try to know what he is thinking but his features are too neutral, except for his gritted teeth.

"Jungkook, I-I never said that" You try after a moment of silence

"It's okay" He sighs, trying to relax the tension in his body "Even if you said it, you had every reason"

You stand in front of him, not knowing what to do. You are unsettled when a little sneer escapes Jungkook's mouth. You look at him, questioning him with your eyes.

"At least you have people to protect you"

"Jungkook-"

"No, it's okay. I see you on Friday with the finished visuals and support designs"

Jungkook grabs his stuff and goes away, leaving you breathless and heart pounding.

————

"Noona, I'm sorry"

Jongseob has spent the whole lunch apologizing but you haven't said a word. You are so disappointed in his behavior but you are also destabilized by the way you feel angry at your friend for attacking Jungkook. You shouldn't feel that way, it's true that Jungkook broke your heart but why do you still want your friends to have a good impression of him? It doesn't make any fucking sense and you sigh in frustration.

"Stop apologizing. What you did was wrong Jongseob"

"I know but he... he was just there and he broke your heart! Are you really okay working with him?!"

You take the time to think. Are you okay with it? Honestly, yes. And more honestly, you are happy to work with him. You wish the reason of that was because Jungkook works well but it's not: the reason is that you want to be with him, in anyway possible.

"Yes, so please stop. Maybe you don't want to hear it or you don't understand but Jungkook is nice"

"How can you say that?!" Jongseob gasps

"He is, really. What he did to me was wrong but beside that, he has been really nice to me"

And it's true. Objectively, the cheating-on-his-girlfriend-with-you part put aside, Jungkook has been nice to you. The two days you have spent working with him showed you a new face of him: the passionate yet so considering of other's opinions side. He has carefully listened to you, has taken the time to explain to you technical things about designs and has worked hand-in-hand with you to provide the perfect visuals. Even beside that, the morning coffee and the way he has hold the chair for you to sit down or the way he has turn off the A/C when he noticed you were cold, proves he is a good person. Maybe a little selfishly too, you want to believe that you have fallen for a good guy and not a shit head so the whole story wasn't you being completely wrong about him.

"Look, I'm a big girl. I know you're worried but everything's fine, Seobi" You smile at Jongseob, trying to calm him down

"Okay..." He sighs "But if he tries anything, please tell me and I swear I'll punch him in the face, just for him to know he can't mess with you"

Your heart softens at his pouty face and you promise. You know Jongseob just wants to protect his Noona but deep down you know Jungkook won't try to hurt you again.

————

You haven't heard of Jungkook until he shows up on Friday for your expected meeting. You have sweaty hands, not knowing how will be things between the two of you. You give him an unsure smile when you welcome him and you feel released that Jungkook is back to his old and nice self. He shows you the final project and everything is perfect. You compliment his work and you may notice a slight blush on his cheeks.

You waste no time and you two head up to Aecha's office so she can approve, what she definitely does. Your colleague is really impressed and praises the both of you. Your chest is full of pride that you managed the situation. You are really excited to be more involved in one of the gallery's projects.

To celebrate your success, you invite Jungkook at a nearby coffee. It doesn't surprise you anymore that Jungkook orders you a latte but it's appealing to your weak and soft heart. Coffees in hands, you sit down at a table.

"I'm so happy that your visuals have been approved! I can't wait to see the posters in real life and on the big screens of the gallery!" You tell him excited, which makes him giggle.

"I'm glad too. Tell me if you need help with the printer guy, I know that sometimes they can be a little hard to handle and delay things until you lose your mind"

"I'll sure do"

You feel so good joking with Jungkook. It feels like before you discovered about Mina, back when everything was so natural and delightful between you two. A small wave of nostalgia washes over your body and a small part of you wishes you didn't know about the girlfriend. However, the bigger part of you feels better to know that he didn't cheat on his girlfriend with you more than that.

"I have to tell you something"

Jungkook's serious tone and face make you stressed. You wonder what other bomb he is going to throw at you and how you'll manage to survive. 'Please, tell me there is no other secret girlfriends!' You pray

"Mina" He starts and your heart sinks by hearing the name, you still feel so guilty towards her even if you didn't know "She is not my girlfriend"

What the hell?!

Your eyes almost roll of your sockets by surprise. You are speechless. Does he lie? But he is looking straight into your eyes and you don't see anything but pain. But if she is not his girlfriend, why did he lie about lying to you? It doesn't make sense!

"She is my best friend, well at least back in Busan"

"But, why?" Is all you manage to say, your brain is completely upside down

"It's just an old habit of us, saying to other people we're dating. When we were younger, we were so close that most people thought that we were actually a couple. At some point, it was kind of a joke to confirm it"

Jungkook's nostalgic smile is not happy but quite sad and your heart squeezes. You wonder what caused him such pain but you don't want to push him.

"Maybe, back then, there were more than friendly feelings between us but it's not the case anymore. I just want you to know that nothing happened between Mina and I"

"Why'd you tell me that?"

Jungkook's eyes grow big in surprise. He doesn't really know why he tells you the truth. Perhaps he just doesn't want you to hurt because of this, because of him.

"I don't know..." He sighs "I just wanted you to know"

You don't know what you feel. On the one hand, you are relived that he didn't cheat on his girlfriend with you, but on the other hand, you are still heartbroken because he has still rejected you - and the reason was not him having a girlfriend but just not wanting to be with you. And that hurts like hell.

Jungkook looks at you with his big doe eyes, biting on his bottom lip, while he waits for you to say something. But honestly, you don't know what to say. So he keeps going:

"I haven't seen her in years but she came up to me. She needed some help. Things are-were complicated. I'm sorry if I hurt you, I really didn't want that"

"I understand" You don't but what else could you say?

"Y/N" He says gently, grabbing your hand at the other side of the table "I am really, really sorry"

The warmth of his hand goes straight to your heart and cheeks. Why does he have to do that? It's so hard not to fall for him when he acts like that! You want to hug him and tell him you forget everything as long as he is with you. But you can't do that, so you smile instead.

"I wish I could go back and do things right with you. Maybe... maybe we could be friends or something?"

Jungkook winces at the way his thoughts have turned into words. It sounds so dumb and it's not really what he wanted to say. He wanted to ask you if you would accept to see him again, like before. Like when you were supposed to have a date at the Lotte aquarium.

"I guess we could be friends" You say in a small voice, almost a whisper

Jungkook's heart jumps in his chest and he knows he'll try everything to make it up to you. But first, he has to deal with Mina.

————

Since you have done a great job with the communication campaign with Jungkook, Aecha sends you over to meet the print firm. You are walking around in Seocho, a district of Seoul, but take the time to follow the Han River boardwalk. The heat and humidity is almost unbearable but the view is so beautiful. The sun is mirroring on the water. You close your eyes, feeling the D Vitamin entering your body. You hum in contentment.

Nevertheless, the universe couldn't let you in peace for five minutes. Your blood runs cold when a familiar but non welcoming face appears right in front of you. Mina. You don't really know how to act in front of her now that you know she isn't really Jungkook's girlfriend.

"Hi" You tell her with an unsure voice

"Hi, Y/N right?"

Mina's smile is bright but not really friendly. Something in her behavior makes you uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, I can't stay long, Jungkook is waiting for me at home" She takes a dig at you

Her little scornful tone drives you crazy. Before you can even think properly, you open your mouth:

"Jungkook told me the truth. You are not really together"

For one second, Mina seems unsettled but she hides it quickly. You feel your heart beating faster and your hands freezing, just as if you were ready for a fight. It might not be a physical one but it will surely be punches with words.

"Did he?"

You stay silent, waiting for her to set the mood. You don't have hard feelings for her. You could be friends, if she wants to.

"Look, you seem like a nice girl" Although it doesn't sound like a compliment in her mouth "But I'm not sure you are the good person for Kookie"

"I think he's old enough to decide for himself"

"We might not be an official couple but we do share something special. We've been best friends for years, we have been through so many things, you won't ever be able to understand. I know him but I'm not sure you can say the same"

You are taken aback.

"I-I do know him" You sound less confident than you wanted

"Oh, really? Did he tell you about his past?" Mina smirks and you frown, confirming what she was thinking "I just don't want you to be hurt, Y/N. Jungkook and I are meant to be together. It might take some time but it will happen eventually. If you stay in between, you'll only get your heart broken"

Your watery eyes blur your vision. You don't know how Mina manages to do it but her words are so sharp that you could swear she is telling the truth. Maybe it's a result of her magnetic aura.

"I love him"

It's the final blow for you. An intense squeeze hits your cardiac muscle. You don't even know who you are anymore. You have read too many books, you have seen too many movies not to know. All along, you thought you were the main character of the story. But you're not. You're the second female lead in Jungkook's story: the one who only exists to make him realize that his true love has been in front of him since the beginning. There is no better destiny than two best friends finally aware of their true feelings. Fate, cruel as ever, put you on Jungkook's path for him to acknowledge that Mina is the right one for him.

And that fucking hurts.

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